THE  SPINNERS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

HEW  YORK  •   BOSTON  •  CHICAGO  •  DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •   BOMBAY  •   CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Lnt 

TORONTO 


THE  SPINNERS 


BY 

EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

Author  of 
"Old  Delabole,"  "Brunei's  Tower,"  etc. 


gork 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1918 

All  rights  reserved, 


COPYRIGHT,  1918 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Set  up   and  electrotyped.     Published,   October,    1918 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  FUNERAL    .      .      ,      •      •      «     V      *      «  1 

II  AT  'THE  TIGER'      .  ^f  ^>  ri/ L^^.t     .      .  16 

III  THE  HACKLER    .      .  v^i^*  A:*£- n-v-^T    -H  •  23 

IV  CHAINS  FOR  RAYMOND  .   ^<H   *>ntT  •/<    •      -29 
V  IN  THE  MILL      .    .  .     ^>r>,iT  $&&•• #;;.•!•  •V|-  42 

VI  '  THE  SEVEN  STARS  '      .  vp.#*!>:>4,  vWk    •      -  50 

VII  A  WALK  .    .  ^^^v^r-^^^airT/J^^^f  '-V  •  57 

VIII  THE   LECTURE     .      .    ^4,  U \.>.  ^.  H^t    «U V  69 

IX  THE  PARTY   .      .      ....      «n*zi*&\    •      •  81 

X  WORK       .      .      .      .:•«,,  •  MX  ,w&  *&£    a  ?.  89 

XI  THE  OLD  STORE-HOUSE  ;;?*»-';-frji^vfA»si^»r    •      •  99 

XII  CREDIT      .      .      .  >mx/^rU!.  •>w-.^i.  r*ttii'    4>1*  1°6 

XIII  IN  THE  FOREMAN'S  GARDEN     .*,. ,  i.  $«j\*    .      .  115 

XIV  THE  CONCERT     .      .    .  .v^  #f .^-rjf.  '.$&?    .      .  122 

XV  A  VISIT  TO  Miss  IRONSYDE 133 

XVI  AT  CHILCOMBE    .      ...      •  •  M.)^ru>)  .."•'/&  144 

XVII  CONFUSION     .^>y%^^M.^. 153 

XVIII  THE  LOVERS'  GROVE      .      <  ;  x  ,  ^  »      •      •  161 

XIX  JOB  LEGG'S  AMBITION    .      «  ;/*     f  //.>£   . Vl/i  180 

XX  A  CONFERENCE  ^r>n*./s  *^..-;:*f/.^-v '•.';<  •  186 

XXI  THE  WARPING  MILL   .'..  ',.>;-  k.    •^,?a»)    .^^4  193 

XXII  THE  TELEGRAM fct) ,,,M)^.   .    y.  202 

XXIII  A  LETTER  FOR  SABINA    .      .  ; -^?H«  ^^f  •  U  f.  212 

XXIV  MRS.  NORTHOVER  DECIDES  .      ,      ,      .      .      .  222 

XXV  THE  WOMAN'S  DARKNESS    ...                  .  232 


397193 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVI     OF  HUMAN  NATURE 239 

XXVII     THE  MASTER  OF  THE  MILL 246 

XXVIII     CLASH  OF  OPINIONS 257 

XXIX     THE  BUNCH  OF  GRAPES 267 

XXX     A  TRIUMPH  OF  REASON .274 

XXXI     THE  OFFER  DECLINED 282 

BOOK  II 

I  THE  FLYING  YEARS 291 

II  THE  SEA  GARDEN 300 

III  A  TWIST  FRAME 306 

IV  THE  RED  HAND       ........   311 

V  AN  ACCIDENT 321 

VI  THE  GATHERING  PROBLEM 328 

VII  THE  WALK  HOME 335 

VIII  EPITAPH         346 

IX  THE  FUTURE  OF  ABEL 354 

X  THE  ADVERTISEMENT 363 

XI  THE  HEMP  BREAKER 369 

XII  THE  PICNIC 377 

XIII  THE  RUNAWAY 387 

XIV  THE  MOTOR  CAR 397 

XV  CRITICISM 410 

XVI  THE  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE 418 

XVII  SABINA  AND  ABEL 428 

XVIII  SWAN  SONG 437 

XIX  NEW  WORK  FOR  ABEL 446 

XX  IDEALS 455 

XXI  ATROPOS 464 

XXII  THE  HIDING-PLACE  .   470 


BOOK  I 
SABINA 


THE  SPINNERS 

CHAPTER  I 

THE    FUNERAL 

THE  people  were  coming  to  church  and  one  had  thought  it 
Sunday,  but  for  two  circumstances.  The  ring  of  bells  at 
St.  Mary's  did  not  peal,  and  the  women  were  dressed  in 
black  as  the  men. 

Through  the  winding  lanes  of  Bridetown  a  throng  con- 
verged, drawn  to  the  grey  tower  by  a  tolling  bell;  and 
while  the  sun  shone  and  a  riot  of  many  flowers  made  hedge- 
rows and  cottage  gardens  gay ;  while  the  spirit  of  the  hour 
was  inspired  by  June  and  a  sun  at  the  zenith  unclouded, 
the  folk  of  the  hamlet  drew  their  faces  to  sadness  and 
mothers  chid  the  children,  who  could  not  pretend,  but 
echoed  the  noontide  hour  in  their  hearts. 

All  were  not  attired  for  a  funeral.  A  small  crowd  of 
women,  with  one  or  two  men  among  them,  stood  together 
where  a  sycamore  threw  a  patch  of  shade  on  a  triangular 
space  of  grass  near  the  church.  There  were  fifty  of  these 
people  —  ancient  women,  others  in  their  prime,  and  many 
young  maidens.  Some  communion  linked  them  and  the 
few  men  who  stood  with  them.  All  wore  a  black  band 
upon  their  left  arms.  Drab  or  grey  was  their  attire,  but 
sunbonnets  nodded  bright  as  butterflies  among  them,  and 
even  their  dull  raiment  was  more  cheerful  than  the  gath- 
ering company  in  black  who  now  began  to  mass  their  num- 
bers and  crane  their  heads  along  the  highway. 

Bridetown  lies  near  the  sea  in  a  valley  under  a  range  of 


2  THE  SPINNERS 

grassy  downs.  It  is  the  centre  of  a  network  of  little  lanes 
with  cottages  dotted  upon  them,  or  set  back  behind  small 
gardens.  The  dwellings  stood  under  thatch,  or  weathered 
tile,  and  their  faces  at  this  season  were  radiant  with  roses 
and  honeysuckles,  jasmine  and  clematis.  Pinks,  lilies, 
columbines  made  the  garden  patches  gay,  and,  as  though 
so  many  flowers  were  not  enough,  the  windows,  too,  shone 
with  geraniums  and  the  scarlet  tassels  of  great  cactus, 
that  lifted  their  exotic,  thorny  bodies  behind  the  window 
panes.  Not  a  wall  but  flaunted  red  valerian  and  snap- 
dragon. Indeed  Bridetown  was  decked  with  blooms. 

Here  and  there  in  the  midst  stood  better  houses,  with 
some  expanse  of  lawn  before  them  and  fine  shrubs  that 
throve  in  that  snug  vale.  Good  walnut  trees  and  mul- 
berries threw  their  shadows  on  grass  plat  and  house  front, 
while  the  murmur  of  bees  came  from  many  bright  borders. 

South  the  land  rose  again  to  the  sea  cliffs,  for  the  spirits, 
of  ocean  and  the  west  wind  have  left  their  mark  upon 
Bride  Vale.  The  white  gulls  float  aloft;  the  village  elms 
are  moulded  by  Zephyr  with  sure  and  steady  breath.  Of 
forestal  size  and  unstunted,  yet  they  turn  their  backs,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  west  and,  yielding  to  that  unsleeping 
pressure,  incline  landward.  The  trees  stray  not  far. 
They  congregate  in  an  oasis  about  Bridetown,  then  wend 
away  through  valley  meadows,  but  leave  the  green  hills 
bare.  The  high  ground  rolls  upward  to  a  gentle  skyline 
and  the  hillsides,  denuded  by  water  springs,  or  scratched 
by  man,  reveal  the  silver  whiteness  of  the  chalk  where  they 
are  wounded. 

Bride  river  winds  in  the  midst,  and  her  bright  waters 
throw  a  loop  round  the  eastern  frontier  of  the  hamlet,  pass 
under  the  highway,  bring  life  to  the  cottage  gardens  and 
turn  more  wheels  than  one.  Blooth  of  apple  and  pear  are 
mirrored  on  her  face  and  fruit  falls  into  her  lap  at  autumn 
time.  Then  westward  she  flows  through  the  water  mead- 
ows, and  so  slips  uneventfully  away  to  sea,  where  the  cliffs 
break  and  there  stretches  a  little  strand.  To  the  last  she 


THE  FUNERAL  3 

is  crowned  with  flowers,  and  the  meadowsweets  and  violets 
that  decked  her  cradle  give  place  to  sea  poppies,  sea  hol- 
lies, and  stones  encrusted  with  lichens  of  red  gold,  where 
Bride  flows  to  one  great  pool,  sinks  into  the  sand  and 
glides  unseen  to  her  lover. 

"  They're  coming ! "  said  one  of  the  crowd ;  but  it  was 
a  false  alarm.  A  flock  of  breeding  lambs  of  the  Dorset 
horned  sheep  pattered  through  the  village  on  their  way  to 
pasture.  The  young,  healthy  creatures,  with  amber-col- 
oured horns  and  yellow  eyes,  trotted  contentedly  along  to- 
gether and  left  an  ovine  reek  in  the  air.  Behind  them 
came  the  shepherd  —  a  high-coloured,  middle-aged  man 
with  a  sharp  nose  and  mild,  grey  eyes.  He  could  give  news 
of  the  funeral,  which  was  on  the  way  behind  him. 

An  iron  seat  stood  under  the  sycamore  on  the  triangular 
patch  of  grass,  and  a  big  woman  sat  upon  it.  She  was  of 
vast  dimensions,  broad  and  beamy  as  a  Dutch  sloop.  Her 
bulk  was  clad  in  dun  colour,  and  on  her  black  bonnet  ap- 
peared a  layer  of  yellow  dust.  She  spoke  to  others  of  the 
little  crowd  who  surrounded  her.  They  came  from  Bride- 
town  Spinning  Mill,  for  work  was  suspended  because 
Henry  Ironsyde,  the  mill  owner,  had  died  and  now  ap- 
proached his  grave. 

"  The  Ironsydes  bury  here,  but  they  don't  live  here," 
said  Sally  Groves.  "  They  lived  here  once,  at  North  Hill 
House ;  but  that's  when  I  first  came  to  the  Mill  as  a  bit  of 
a  girl." 

The  big  woman  fanned  herself  with  a  handkerchief,  then 
spoke  a  grey  man  with  a  full  beard,  small  head,  and  dis- 
contented eyes.  He  was  Levi  Baggs,  the  hackler. 

"  We  shall  have  those  two  blessed  boys  over  us  now,  no 
doubt,"  he  said.  "  But  what  know  they?  Things  will  be 
as  they  were,  and  time  and  wages  the  same  as  before." 

"  They'll  be  sure  to  do  what  their  father  wished,  and 
there  was  a  murmur  of  changes  before  he  died,"  said  Sally 
Groves ;  but  Levi  shook  his  head. 

"  Daniel  Ironsyde  is  built  like  his  father,  to  let  well 


4  THE  SPINNERS 

alone.  Raymond  Ironsyde  don't  count.  He'll  only  want 
his  money." 

"Have  you  ever  seen  Mr.  Raymond?"  asked  a  girl. 
She  was  Nancy  Buckler,  a  spinner  —  hard-featured, 
sharp-voiced,  and  wiry.  Nancy  might  have  been  any  age 
between  twenty-five  and  forty.  She  owned  to  thirty. 

"  He  don't  come  to  Bridetown,  and  if  you  want  to  see 
him,  you  must  go  to  *  The  Tiger,'  at  Bridport,"  declared 
another  girl.  Her  name  was  Sarah  Northover. 

"  My  Aunt  Nelly  keeps  *  The  Seven  Stars,'  in  Barrack 
Street,"  she  explained,  "  and  that's  just  alongside  '  The 
Tiger,'  and  my  Aunt  Nelly's  very  friendly  with  Mr.  Gurd, 
of  '  The  Tiger,'  and  he's  told  her  that  Mr.  Raymond  is 
there  half  his  time.  He's  all  for  sport  and  such  like,  and 
'  The  Tiger's  '  a  very  sporting  house." 

"  He  won't  be  no  good  to  the  mills  if  he's  that  sort," 
prophesied  Sally  Groves. 

" 1  saw  him  once,  with  another  young  fellow  called  Mot- 
yer,"  answered  Sarah  Northover.  "  He's  very  good-look- 
ing —  fair  and  curly  —  quite  different  from  Mr.  Daniel." 

"  Light  or  dark,  they're  Henry  Ironsyde's  sons  and  be 
brought  up  in  his  pattern  no  doubt,"  declared  Mr.  Baggs. 

People  continued  to  appear,  and  among  them  walked  an 
elderly  man,  a  woman  and  a  girl.  They  were  Mr.  Ernest 
Churchouse,  of  *  The  Magnolias,'  with  his  widowed  house- 
keeper, Mary  Dinnett,  and  her  daughter,  Sabina.  The  girl 
was  nineteen,  dark  and  handsome,  and  very  skilled  in  her 
labour.  None  disputed  her  right  to  be  called  first  spinner 
at  the  mills.  She  was  an  impulsive,  ambitious  maiden,  and 
Mr.  Best,  foreman  at  the  works,  claimed  for  her  that  she 
brought  genius  as  well  as  understanding  to  her  task. 
Sabina  joined  her  friend,  Nancy  Buckler;  Mrs.  Dinnett, 
who  had  been  a  mill  hand  in  her  youth,  took  a  seat  beside 
Sally  Groves,  and  Mr.  Churchouse  paced  alone.  He  was 
a  round-faced,  clean-shaven  man  with  mild,  grey  eyes  and 
iron  grey  hair.  He  looked  gentle  and  genial.  His  shoul- 
ders were  high,  and  his  legs  short.  Walking  irked  him, 


THE  FUNERAL  5 

for  a  sedentary  life  and  hearty  appetite  had  made  him 
stout. 

*  The  fall  of  Henry  Ironsyde  served  somewhat  to  waken 
Ernest  Churchouse  from  the  placid  dream  in  which  he 
lived,  shake  him  from  his  normal  quietude,  and  remind  him 
of  the  flight  of  time.  He  and  the  dead  man  were  of  an 
age  and  had  been  boys  together.  Their  fathers  founded 
the  Bridetown  Spinning  Mill,  and  when  the  elder  men 
passed  away,  it  was  Henry  Ironsyde  who  took  over  the 
enterprise  and  gradually  bought  out  Ernest  Churchouse. 
But  while  Ironsyde  left  Bridetown  and  lived  henceforth  at 
Bridport,  that  he  might  develop  further  interests  in  the 
spinning  trade,  Ernest  had  been  well  content  to  remain 
there,  enjoy  his  regular  income  and  live  at  '  The  Mag- 
nolias,5 his  father's  old-world  house,  beside  the  river.  His 
tastes  were  antiquarian  and  literary.  He  wrote  when  in 
the  mood,  and  sometimes  read  papers  at  the  Mechanics' 
Institute  of  Bridport.  But  he  was  constitutionally  averse 
from  real  work  of  any  sort,  lacked  ambition,  and  found 
all  the  fame  he  needed  in  the  village  community  with  which 
his  life  had  been  passed.  He  was  a  childless  widower.  Mr. 
Churchouse  strolled  now  into  the  churchyard  to  look  at 
the  grave.  It  opened  beside  that  of  Henry  Ironsyde's 
parents  and  his  wife.  She  had  been  dead  for  fifteen  years. 
A  little  crowd  peered  down  into  the  green-clad  pit,  for  the 
sides,  under  the  direction  of  John  Best,  had  been  lined  with 
cypress  and  bay.  The  grass  was  rank,  but  it  had  been 
mown  down  for  this  occasion  round  the  tombs  of  the  Iron- 
sydes,  though  elsewhere  darnel  rose  knee  deep  and  many 
venerable  stones  slanted  out  of  it.  Immediately  south  of 
the  churchyard  wall  stood  the  Mill,  and  Benny  Cogle, 
engineman  at  the  works,  who  now  greeted  Mr.  Churchouse, 
dwelt  on  the  fact. 

"  Morning,  sir,"  he  said,  "  a  brave  day  for  the  funeral, 
sure  enough." 

"  Good    morning,    Benny,"    answered    the    other.     His 
voice  was  weak  and  gentle. 


6  THE  SPINNERS 

"  When  I  think  how  near  the  church  and  Mill  do  lie 
together,  I  have  thoughts,"  continued  Benny.  He  was  a 
florid  man  of  thirty,  with  tow-coloured  hair  and  blue  eyes. 

"  Naturally.  You  work  and  pray  here  all  inside  a  space 
of  fifty  yards.  But  for  my  part,  Benny  Cogle,  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  working  is  the  best  form  of  praying." 

Mr.  Churchouse  always  praised  work  for  others  and, 
indeed,  was  under  the  impression  that  he  did  his  share. 

"  Same  here,"  replied  the  engineman,  "  especially  while 
you're  young.  Anyway,  if  I  had  to  choose  between  'em, 
I'd  sooner  work.  'Tis  better  for  the  mind  and  appetite. 
And  I  lay  if  Mr.  Ironsyde,  when  he  lies  down  there,  could 
tell  the  truth,  he'd  rather  be  hearing  the  Mill  going  six 
days  a  week  and  feeling  his  grave  throbbing  to  my  engines, 
than  list  to  the  sound  of  the  church  organ  on  the  seventh." 

"  Not  so,"  reproved  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  We  must  not 
go  so  far  as  that.  Henry  Ironsyde  was  a  God-fearing 
man  and  respected  the  Sabbath  as  we  all  should,  and  most 
of  us  do." 

"  The  weaker  vessels  come  to  church,  I  grant,"  said 
Benny,  "  but  the  men  be  after  more  manly  things  than 
church-going  of  a  Sunday  nowadays." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  them,"  declared  Mr.  Church- 
ouse. "  Here,"  he  continued,  "  there  are  naturally  more 
women  than  men.  Since  my  father  and  Henry  Ironsyde's 
father  established  these  mills,  which  are  now  justly  famous 
in  the  county,  the  natural  result  has  happened  and  women 
have  come  here  in  considerable  numbers.  Women  prepon- 
derate in  spinning  places,  because  the  work  of  spinning 
yarn  has  always  been  in  their  hands  from  time  immemorial. 
And  they  tend  our  modern  machinery  as  deftly  as  of  old 
they  twirled  the  distaff  and  worked  the  spinning-wheel ;  and 
as  steadily  as  they  used  to  trudge  the  rope  walks  and  spin, 
like  spiders,  from  the  masses  of  flax  or  hemp  at  their 
waists." 

"  The  females  want  religion  without  a  doubt,"  said 
Benny.  "  I'm  tokened  to  Mercy  Gale,  for  instance ;  she 


THE  FUNERAL  7 

looks  after  the  warping  wheels,  and  if  that  girl  didn't  say 
her  prayers  some  fine  morning,  she'd  be  as  useless  as  if  she 
hadn't  eat  her  breakfast.  'Tis  the  feminine  nature  that 
craves  for  support." 

A  very  old  man  stood  and  peered  into  the  grave.  He 
was  the  father  of  Levi  Baggs,  the  hackler,  and  people  said 
he  was  never  seen  except  on  the  occasion  of  a  funeral. 
The  ancient  had  been  reduced  to  a  mere  wisp  by  the  attri- 
tion of  time. 

He  put  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  Mr.  Churchouse  and 
regarded  the  grave  with  a  nodding  head. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  soul,"  he  said.  "  Life,  how  short  —  eter- 
nity, how  long !  " 

"  True,  most  true,  William." 

"  And  I  ask  myself,  as  each  corpse  goes  in,  how  many 
more  pits  will  open  afore  mine." 

"  'Tis  hid  with  your  Maker,  William." 

"  Thank  God  I'm  a  good  old  man  and  ripe  and  ready," 
said  Mr.  Baggs.  "  Not,"  he  added,  "  that  there's  any 
credit  to  me ;  for  you  can't  be  anything  much  but  good  at 
ninety-two." 

"  While  the  brain  is  spared  we  can  think  evil,  William." 

"  Not  a  brain  like  mine,  I  do  assure  'e." 

A  little  girl  ran  into  the  churchyard  —  a  pretty,  fair 
child,  whose  bright  hair  contrasted  with  the  black  she  wore. 

"  They  have  come  and  father  sent  me  to  tell  you,  Mr. 
Churchouse,"  she  said. 

"  Thank  you,  Estelle,"  he  answered,  and  they  returned 
to  the  open  space  together.  The  child  then  joined  her 
father,  and  Mr.  Churchouse,  saluting  the  dead,  walked  to 
the  first  mourning  coach  and  opened  the  door. 

It  was  a  heavy  and  solid  funeral  of  Victorian  fashion 
proper  to  the  time.  The  hearse  had  been  drawn  by  four 
black  horses  with  black  trappings,  and  over  the  invisible 
coffin  nodded  a  gloomy  harvest  of  black  ostrich  plumes. 
There  were  no  flowers,  and  some  children,  who  crept  for- 
ward with  a  little  wreath  of  wild  roses,  were  pushed  back. 


8  THE  SPINNERS 

The  men  from  the  Mill  helped  to  carry  their  master  into 
the  church ;  but  there  were  not  enough  of  them  to  support 
the  massive  oak  that  held  a  massive  man,  and  John  Best, 
Levi  Baggs,  Benny  Cogle  and  Nicholas  Roberts  were  as- 
sisted by  the  undertakers. 

From  the  first  coach  descended  an  elderly  woman  and  a 
youth.  The  lady  was  Miss  Jenny  Ironsyde,  sister  of  the 
dead,  and  with  her  came  her  nephew  Daniel,  the  new  mill- 
owner.  He  was  five-and-twenty  —  a  sallow,  strong-faced 
young  fellow,  broad  in  the  shoulder  and  straight  in  the 
back.  His  eyes  were  brown  and  steady,  his  mouth  and 
nose  indicated  decision;  the  funeral  had  not  changed  his 
cast  of  countenance,  which  was  always  solemn ;  for,  as  his 
father  before  him,  he  lacked  a  sense  of  humour. 

Mr.  Churchouse  shook  hands  and  peered  into  the  coach. 

"  Where's  Raymond?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  come,"  answered  Miss  Ironsyde.  She  was  a 
sturdy  woman  of  five-and-fifty,  with  a  pleasant  face  and 
kindly  eyes.  But  they  were  clouded  now  and  she  showed 
agitation. 

"  Not  come !  "  exclaimed  Ernest  with  very  genuine  con- 
sternation. 

Daniel  Ironsyde  answered.  His  voice  was  slow,  but  he 
had  a  natural  instinct  for  clarity  and  spoke  more  to  the 
point  than  is  customary  with  youth. 

"  My  brother  has  not  come  because  my  father  has  left 
him  out  of  his  will,  Mr.  Churchouse." 

"Altogether?" 

"  Absolutely.  Will  you  take  my  aunt's  arm  and  follow 
next  after  me,  please?  " 

Two  clergymen  met  the  coffin  at  the  lich-gate,  and  be- 
hind the  chief  mourners  came  certain  servants  and  depend- 
ents, followed  by  the  women  of  the  Mill.  Then  a  dozen 
business  men  walked  together.  A  few  of  his  co-workers 
had  sent  their  carriages ;  but  most  came  themselves,  to  do 
the  last  honour  to  one  greatly  respected. 

Mr.  Churchouse  paid  little  attention  to  the  obsequies. 


THE  FUNERAL  9 

"  Not  at  his  father's  funeral !  "  he  kept  thinking  to  him- 
self. His  simple  mind  was  thrown  into  a  large  confusion 
by  such  an  incident.  The  fact  persisted  rather  than  the 
reason  for  it.  He  longed  to  learn  more,  but  could  not 
until  the  funeral  was  ended. 

When  the  coffin  came  to  the  grave,  Mary  Dinnett  stole 
home  to  look  after  the  midday  dinner.  It  had  weighed  on 
her  mind  since  she  awoke,  for  Miss  Ironsyde  and  Daniel 
were  coming  to  t  The  Magnolias  '  to  partake  of  a  meal 
before  returning  home.  There  were  no  relations  from  afar 
to  be  considered,  and  no  need  for  funeral  baked  meats  in 
the  dead  man's  house. 

When  all  was  ended  and  only  old  William  Baggs  stood 
by  the  grave  and  watched  the  sextons  fill  it,  a  small  com- 
pany walked  together  up  the  hill  north  of  Bridetown. 
Daniel  went  first  with  Mr.  Churchouse,  and  behind  them 
followed  Miss  Jenny  Ironsyde  with  a  man  and  a  child. 
The  man  rented  North  Hill  House.  Arthur  Waldron  was 
a  widower,  who  lived  now  for  two  things :  his  little  daugh- 
ter, Estelle,  and  sport.  No  other  considerations  chal- 
lenged his  mind.  He  was  rich  and  good-hearted.  He 
knew  that  his  little  girl  had  brains,  and  he  dealt  fairly 
with  her  in  the  matter  of  education. 

Of  the  Ironsyde  brothers,  Raymond  was  his  personal 
friend,  and  Mr.  Waldron  now  permitted  himself  some  vague 
expression  of  regret  that  the  young  man  should  have  been 
absent  on  such  an  occasion. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Ironsyde,  to  whom  he  spoke,  "  if 
there's  any  excuse  for  convention  it's  at  a  funeral.  No 
doubt  people  will  magnify  the  incident  into  a  scandal  — 
for  their  own  amusement  and  the  amusement  of  their 
friends.  If  Raymond  had  enjoyed  time  to  reflect,  I  feel 
sure  he  would  have  come;  but  there  was  no  time.  His 
father  has  made  no  provision  for  him,  and  he  is  rather 
upset.  It  is  not  unnatural  that  he  should  be,  for  dear 
Henry,  while  always  very  impatient  of  Raymond's  sport- 
ing tastes  and  so  on,  never  threatened  anything  like  this." 


10  THE  SPINNERS 

"  No  doubt  Mr.  Ironsyde  would  have  made  a  difference 
if  he  had  not  died  so  suddenly." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  she  answered. 

Then  Waldron  and  his  daughter  went  homewards ;  while 
the  others,  turning  down  a  lane  to  the  right,  reached  4  The 
Magnolias  ' —  a  small,  ancient  house  whose  face  was  cov- 
ered with  green  things  and  whose  lawn  spread  to  the  river 
bank. 

Mrs.  Dinnett  had  prepared  a  special  meal  of  a  sort  asso- 
ciated with  the  mournful  business  of  the  day ;  for  a  funeral 
feast  has  its  own  character;  the  dishes  should  be  cold  and 
the  wine  should  be  white  or  brown. 

Mr.  Churchouse  was  concerned  to  know  what  Daniel 
meant  to  do  for  Raymond;  but  he  found  the  heir  by  no 
means  inclined  to  emotional  generosity. 

Daniel  spoke  in  a  steady  voice,  though  he  showed  a 
spark  of  feeling  presently.  The  fire,  however,  was  for  his 
dead  father,  not  his  living  brother. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  that  Raymond  could  have  been  so  small 
as  to  keep  away  from  the  funeral,"  he  said.  "  It  was 
petty.  But,  as  Aunt  Jenny  says,  he's  built  like  that,  and 
no  doubt  the  shock  of  being  ignored  knocked  him  off  his 
balance." 

"  He  has  the  defects  of  his  qualities,  my  dear.  The 
same  people  can  often  rise  to  great  heights  and  sink  to 
great  depths.  They  can  do  worse  things  —  and  better 
things  —  than  we  humdrum  folk,  who  jog  along  the  middle 
of  the  road.  We  must  forgive  such  people  for  doing 
things  we  wouldn't  do,  and  remember  their  power  to  do 
things  we  couldn't  do." 

The  young  man  was  frankly  puzzled  by  this  speech, 
which  came  from  his  aunt.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I've  got  to  think  of  father  first  and  Raymond  after- 
wards," he  said.  "  I  owe  my  first  duty  to  my  father,  who 
trusted  me  and  honoured  me,  and  knew  very  well  that  I 
should  obey  his  wishes  and  carry  on  with  my  life  as  he 


THE  FUNERAL  11 

would  have  liked  to  see  me.  He  has  made  a  very  definite 
and  clear  statement,  and  I  should  be  disloyal  to  him  —  dis- 
honest to  him  —  if  I  did  anything  contrary  to  the  spirit 
of  it." 

"Who  would  wish  you  to?  "  asked  Ernest  Churchouse. 
"  But  a  brother  is  a  brother,"  he  continued,  "  and  since 
there  is  nothing  definite  about  Raymond  in  the  will,  you 
should,  I  think,  argue  like  this.  You  should  say  to  your- 
self, '  my  father  was  disappointed  with  my  brother  and 
did  not  know  what  to  do  about  him ;  but,  having  a  high 
opinion  of  me  and  my  good  sense  and  honesty,  he  left  my 
brother  to  my  care.  He  regarded  me,  in  fact,  as  my 
brother's  keeper,  and  hoped  that  I  would  help  Raymond 
to  justify  his  existence.'  Don't  you  feel  like  that?  " 

"  I  feel  that  my  father  was  very  long-suffering  with 
Raymond,  and  his  will  tells  me  that  he  had  a  great  deal 
more  to  put  up  with  from  Raymond  than  anybody  ever 
knew,  except  my  brother  himself." 

"  You  needn't  take  up  the  cudgels  for  your  father, 
Dan,"  interposed  Miss  Ironsyde.  "  Be  sure  that  your 
dear  father,  from  the  peace  which  now^  he  enjoys,  would 
not  like  to  see  you  make  his  quarrel  with  Raymond  your 
quarrel.  I'm  not  extenuating  Raymond's  selfish  and  un- 
thinking conduct  as  a  son.  His  own  conscience  will  exact 
the  payment  for  wrong  done  beyond  repair.  He'll  come 
to  that  some  day.  He  won't  escape  it.  He's  not  built  to 
escape  it.  But  he's  your  brother,  not  your  son ;  and  you 
must  ask  yourself,  whether  as  a  brother,  you've  fairly  got 
any  quarrel  with  him." 

Daniel  considered  a  moment,  then  he  spoke. 

"  I  have  not,"  he  said  — "  except  the  general  quarrel 
that  he's  a  waster  and  not  justifying  his  existence.  We 
have  had  practically  nothing  to  do  with  each  other  since 
we  left  school." 

"  Well,"  declared  Mr.  Churchouse,  "  now  you  must  have 
something  to  do  with  each  other.  It  is  an  admirable 


12  THE  SPINNERS 

thought  of  your  Aunt  Jenny's  that  your  father  has  hon- 
oured your  judgment  by  leaving  the  destiny  of  Raymond 
more  or  less  in  your  hands." 

"  I  didn't  say  that ;  you  said  it,"  interrupted  the  lady. 
"  Raymond's  destiny  is  in  his  own  hands.  But  I  do  feel, 
of  course,  that  Daniel  can't  ignore  him.  The  moment  has 
come  when  a  strong  effort  must  be  made  to  turn  Raymond 
into  a  useful  member  of  society." 

"What  allowance  did  dear  Henry  make  him?"  asked 
Mr.  Churchouse. 

"  Father  gave  him  two  hundred  a  year,  and  father  paid 
all  his  debts  before  his  twenty-first  birthday ;  but  he  didn't 
pay  them  again.  Raymond  has  told  Aunt  Jenny  that  he's 
owing  two  hundred  pounds  at  this  moment." 

"  And  nothing  to  show  for  it  —  we  may  be  sure  of  that. 
Well,  it  might  have  been  worse.  Is  the  allowance  to  be 
continued?  " 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Ironsyde.  "  That's  the  point.  It  is 
to  cease.  Henry  expressly  directs  that  it  is  to  cease ;  and 
to  me  that  is  very  significant." 

"  Of  course,  for  it  shows  that  he  leaves  Raymond  in  his 
brother's  hands." 

"  I  have  heard  Henry  say  that  Raymond  beat  him," 
continued  Miss  Ironsyde.  "  He  was  a  good  father  and  a 
forgiving  father,  but  temperamentally  he  was  not  built  to 
understand  Raymond.  Some  people  develop  slowly  and 
remain  children  much  longer  than  other  people.  Ray- 
mond is  one  of  those.  Daniel,  like  my  dear  brother  before 
him,  has  developed  quickly  and  come  to  man's  estate  and 
understanding." 

"  His  father  could  trust  his  eldest  son,"  declared  Mr. 
Churchouse,  "  and,  as  I  happen  to  know,  Daniel,  you  al- 
ways spoke  with  patience  and  reason  about  Raymond  — 
your  father  has  told  me  so.  It  was  natural  and  wise, 
therefore,  that  my  late  dear  friend  should  have  left  Ray- 
mond to  you." 

"  I  only  want  to  do  my  duty,"  said  the  young  man. 


THE  FUNERAL  13 

"  By  stopping  away  to-day  Raymond  hasn't  made  me  feel 
any  kinder  to  him,  and  if  he  were  not  so  stupid  in  some 
ways,  he  must  have  known  it  would  be  so ;  but  I  am  not 
going  to  let  that  weigh  against  him.  How  do  you  read 
the  fact  that  my  father  directs  Raymond's  allowance  to 
cease.  Uncle  Ernest?  " 

Mr.  Churchouse  bore  no  real  connection  to  the  Iron- 
sydes;  but  his  relations  had  always  been  close  and  cordial 
after  he  relinquished  his  share  in  the  business  of  the  mills, 
and  the  younger  generation  was  brought  up  to  call  him 
'  uncle.' 

"  I  read  it  like  this,"  answered  the  elder.  "  It  means 
that  Raymond  is  to  look  to  you  in  future,  and  that  hence- 
forth you  may  justly  demand  that  he  should  not  live  in 
idleness.  There  is  nothing  more  demoralising  for  youth 
than  to  live  upon  money  it  doesn't  earn.  I  should  say  — 
subject  to  your  aunt's  opinion,  to  which  I  attach  the 
greatest  importance  —  that  it  is  your  place  to  give  your 
brother  an  interest  in  life  and  to  show  him,  what  you 
know  already,  the  value  and  dignity  of  work." 

"  I  entirely  agree,"  said  Jenny  Ironsyde.  "  I  can  go 
further  and  declare  from  personal  knowledge  that  my 
brother  had  shadowed  the  idea  in  his  mind." 

They  both  regarded  Daniel. 

"  Then  leave  it  there,"  he  bade  them,  "  leave  it  there  and 
I'll  think  it  out.  My  father  was  the  fairest  man  I  ever 
met,  and  I'll  try  and  be  as  fair.  It's  up  to  Raymond 
more  than  me." 

"  You  can  bring  a  horse  to  the  water,  though  you  can't 
make  him  drink,"  admitted  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  But  if  you 
bring  your  horse  to  the  water,  you've  done  all  that  reason 
and  sense  may  ask  you  to  do." 

Miss  Ironsyde,  from  larger  knowledge  of  the  circum- 
stances, felt  disposed  to  carry  the  question  another  step. 
She  opened  her  mouth  and  drew  in  her  breath  to  speak  — 
making  that  little  preliminary  sound  only  audible  when 
nothing  follows  it.  But  she  did  not  speak. 


14  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Come  into  the  garden  and  see  Magnolia  grandiflora," 
said  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  There  are  twelve  magnificent 
blossoms  open  this  morning,  and  I  should  have  picked 
every  one  of  them  for  my  dear  friend's  grave,  only  the 
direction  was  clear,  that  there  were  to  be  no  flowers." 

"  Henry  disliked  any  attempt  to  soften  the  edges  at  such 
a  time,"  explained  the  dead  man's  sister.  "  He  held  that 
death  was  the  skeleton  at  the  feast  of  life  —  a  wholesome 
and  stark  reminder  to  the  thoughtless  living  that  the  grave 
is  the  end  of  our  mortal  days.  He  liked  a  funeral  to  be  a 
funeral  —  black  —  black.  He  did  not  want  the  skeleton 
at  the  feast  to  be  decked  in  roses  and  lilies." 

"  An  opinion  worthy  of  all  respect,"  declared  Mr. 
Churchouse. 

Then  he  asked  after  the  health  of  his  guest  and  expressed 
sympathy  for  her  sorrow  and  great  loss. 

"  He'd  been  so  much  better  lately  that  it  was  a  shock," 
she  said,  "  but  he  died  as  he  wanted  to  die  —  as  all  Iron- 
sydes  do  die  —  without  an  illness.  It  is  a  tradition  that 
never  seems  to  fail.  That  reconciled  us  in  a  way.  And 
you  —  how  are  you  ?  You  seldom  come  to  Bridport  now- 
adays." 

Mr.  Churchouse  rarely  talked  about  himself. 

"  True.  I  have  been  immersed  in  literary  work  and 
getting  on  with  my  magnum  opus :  '  The  Church  Bells  of 
Dorset.'  You  see  one  does  not  obtain  much  help  here  — 
no  encouragement.  Not  that  I  expect  it.  We  men  of 
letters  have  to  choose  between  being  hermits,  or  humbugs." 

"  I  always  thought  a  hermit  was  a  humbug,"  said 
Jenny,  smiling  for  the  first  time. 

"  Not  always.  When  I  say  '  hermit,'  I  mean  *  recluse.' 
With  all  the  will  to  be  a  social  success  and  identify  myself 
with  the  welfare  of  the  place  in  which  I  dwell,  my  powers 
are  circumscribed.  Do  not  think  I  put  myself  above  the 
people,  or  pretend  any  intellectual  superiority,  or  any  non- 
sense of  that  sort.  No,  it  is  merely  a  question  of  time  and 
energy.  My  antiquarian  work  demands  both,  and  so  I  am 


THE  FUNERAL  15 

deprived  by  duty  from  mixing  in  the  social  life  as  much  as 
I  wish.  This  is  not,  perhaps,  understood,  and  so  I  get  a 
character  for  aloofness,  which  is  not  wholly  deserved." 

"  Don't  worry,"  said  Miss  Ironsyde.  "  Everybody 
cares  for  you.  People  don't  think  about  us  and  our 
doings  half  as  much  as  we  are  prone  to  fancy.  I  liked 
your  last  article  in  the  Bridport  Gazette.  Only  I  seemed 
to  have  read  most  of  it  before." 

"  Probably  you  have.  The  facts,  of  course,  were  com- 
mon property.  My  task  is  to  collect  data  and  retail 
them  in  a  luminous  and  illuminating  way." 

"  So  you  do  —  so  you  do." 

He  looked  away,  where  Daniel  stood  by  himself  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  eyes  on  the  river. 

"  A  great  responsibility  for  one  so  young ;  but  he  will 
rise  to  it." 

"  D'you  mean  his  brother,  or  the  Mill?  " 

"  Both,"  answered  Ernest  Churchouse.     "  Both." 

Mrs.  Dinnett  came  down  the  garden. 

"  The  mourning  coach  is  at  the  door,"  she  said. 

"  Daniel  insisted  that  we  went  home  in  a  mourning 
coach,"  explained  Miss  Ironsyde.  "  He  felt  the  funeral 
was  not  ended  until  we  returned  home.  That  shows  imagi- 
nation, so  you  can't  say  he  hasn't  got  any." 

"  You  can  never  say  anybody  hasn't  got  anything,"  de- 
clared Mr.  Churchouse.  "  Human  nature  defeats  all  cal- 
culations. The  wisest  only  generalise  about  it." 


CHAPTER  II 

AT 

THE  municipal  borough  of  Bridport  stretches  itself  luxuri- 
ously from  east  to  west  beneath  a  wooded  hill.  South- 
ward the  land  slopes  to  broad  water-meadows  where  rivers 
meet  and  Brit  and  Asker  wind  to  the  sea.  Evidences  of 
the  great  local  industry  are  not  immediately  apparent ;  but 
streamers  and  wisps  of  steam  scattered  above  the  red-tiled 
roofs  tell  of  work,  and  westward,  where  the  land  falls,  there 
stand  shoulder  to  shoulder  the  busy  mills. 

From  single  yarn  that  a  child  could  break,  to  hawsers 
strong  enough  to  hold  a  battleship,  Bridport  meets  every 
need.  Her  twines  and  cords  and  nets  are  famous  the 
world  over;  her  ropes,  cables,  cablets  and  canvas  rigged 
the  fleet  that  scattered  the  Spanish  Armada. 

The  broad  streets  with  deep,  unusual  side-walks  are  a 
sign  of  Bridport's  past,  for  they  tell  of  the  days  when 
men  and  women  span  yarn  before  their  doors,  and  rope- 
walks  ran  their  amber  and  silver  threads  of  hemp  and  flax 
along  the  pavements.  But  steel  and  steam  have  taken  the 
place  of  the  hand-spinners,  though  their  industry  has  left 
its  sign-manual  upon  the  township.  For  the  great,  open 
side-walks  make  for  distinction  and  spaciousness,  and 
there  shall  be  found  in  all  Dorset,  no  brighter,  cheerfuller 
place  than  this.  Bridport's  very  workhouse,  south-facing 
and  bowered  in  green,  blinks  half  a  hundred  windows  ami- 
ably at  the  noonday  sun  and  helps  to  soften  the  life- 
failure  of  those  who  dwell  therein.  Off  Barrack  Street  it 
stands,  and  at  the  time  of  the  terror,  when  Napoleon 
threatened,  soldiers  hived  here  and  gave  the  way  its  name. 


AT  '  THE  TIGER  '  17 

Not  far  from  the  workhouse  two  inns  face  each  other  in 
Barrack  Street  — c  The  Tiger  9  upon  one  side  of  the  way, 
6  The  Seven  Stars  '  upon  the  other ;  and  at  the  moment 
when  Henry  Ironsyde's  dust  was  reaching  the  bottom  of 
his  grave  at  Bridetown,  a  young  man  of  somewhat  inane 
countenance,  clad  in  garments  that  displayed  devotion  to 
sport  and  indifference  to  taste,  entered  '  The  Tiger's  '  pri- 
vate bar. 

Behind  the  counter  stood  Richard  Gurd,  a  middle-aged, 
broad-shouldered  publican  with  a  large  and  clean-shaven 
face,  heavy-jaw,  rather  sulky  eyes  and  mighty  hands. 

"  The  usual,"  said  the  visitor.     "  Ray  been  here?  " 

Mr.  Gurd  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  Mr.  Ned  —  nor  likely  to.  They're  burying  his 
father  this  morning." 

The  publican  poured  out  a  glass  of  cherry  brandy  as 
he  spoke  and  Mr.  Neddy  Motyer  rolled  a  cigarette. 

"  Ray  ain't  going,"  said  the  customer. 

"  Not  going  to  his  father's  funeral !  " 

"  For  a  very  good  reason,  too ;  he's  cut  off  with  a 
shilling." 

"  Dear,  dear,"  said  Mr.  Gurd.  "  That's  bad  news, 
though  perhaps  not  much  of  a  surprise  to  Mr.  Raymond." 

"  It's  a  devil  of  a  lesson  to  the  rising  generation,"  de- 
clared the  youth.  "  To  think  our  own  fathers  can  do  such 
blackguard  things,  just  because  they  don't  happen  to  like 
our  way  of  life.  What  would  become  of  England  if  every 
man  was  made  in  the  pattern  of  his  father?  Don't  educa- 
tion and  all  that  count?  If  my  father  was  to  do  such  a 
thing  —  but  he  won't;  he's  too  fond  of  the  open  air  and 
sport  and  that." 

"  Young  men  don't  study  their  fathers  enough  in  this 
generation,  however,"  argued  the  innkeeper,  "  nor  yet  do 
young  women  study  their  mothers  enough." 

"  We've  got  to  go  out  in  the  world  and  play  our  parts," 
declared  Neddy.  "  'Tis  for  them  to  study  us  —  not  us 
them.  You  must  have  progress.  The  thing  for  parents 


18  THE  SPINNERS 

to  do  is  to  know  they're  back  numbers  and  act  according." 

"  They  do  —  most  of  them,"  answered  Mr.  Gurd.  "  A 
back  number  is  a  back  number  and  behaves  as  such.  I 
speak  impartial  being  a  bachelor,  and  I  forgive  the  young 
men  their  nonsense  and  pardon  their  opinions,  because  I- 
know  I  was  young  myself  once,  and  as  big  a  fool  as  any- 
body, and  put  just  the  same  strain  on  my  parents,  no 
doubt,  though  they  lived  to  see  me  a  responsible  man  and 
done  with  childish  things.  The  point  for  parents  is  not  to 
forget  what  it  feels  like  to  be  young.  That  I  never  have, 
and  you  young  gentlemen  would  very  soon  remind  me  if  I 
did.  But  the  late  Mr.  Henry  Ironsyde  found  no  time  for 
all-round  wisdom.  He  poured  his  brains  into  hemp  and 
jute  and  such  like.  Why,  he  didn't  even  make  a  minute 
to  court  and  wed  till  he  was  forty-five  year  old.  And  the 
result  of  that  was  that  when  his  brace  of  boys  was  over 
twenty,  he  stood  in  sight  of  seventy  and  could  only  see 
life  at  that  angle.  And  what  made  it  worse  was,  that  his 
eldest,  Mister  Daniel,  was  cut  just  in  his  own  pattern.  So 
the  late  gentleman  never  could  forgive  Mr.  Raymond  for 
being  cut  in  another  pattern.  But  if  what  you  say  is 
right  and  Mister  Raymond  has  been  left  out  in  the  cold, 
then  I  think  he's  been  badly  used." 

"  So  he  has  —  it's  a  damned  shame,"  said  Mr.  Motyer, 
"  and  I  hope  Ray  will  do  something  about  it." 

"  There's  very  little  we  can  do  against  the  writing  of  the 
dead,"  answered  Mr.  Gurd.  Then  he  saluted  a  man  who 
bustled  into  the  bar. 

"  Morning,  Job.     What's  the  trouble?  " 

Job  Legg  was  very  tall  and  thin.  He  dropped  at  the 
middle,  but  showed  vitality  and  energy  in  his  small  face 
and  rodent  features.  His  hair  was  black,  and  his  thin 
mouth  and  chin  clean-shaven.  His  eyes  were  small  and 
very  shrewd ;  his  manner  was  humble.  He  had  a  monoto- 
nous inflection  and  rather  chanted  in  a  minor  key  than 
spoke. 

"  Mrs.  Northover's  compliments  and  might  we  have  the 


AT  '  THE  TIGER  '  19 

big  fish  kettle  till  to-morrow?  A  party  have  been  sprung 
on  us,  and  five-and-twenty  sit  down  to  lunch  in  the  pleasure 
gardens  at  two  o'clock. 

"  And  welcome,  Job.     Go  round  to  the  kitchen,  will  'e?  " 

Job  disappeared  and  Mr.  Gurd  explained. 

"  My  good  neighbour  at  *  The  Seven  Stars  ' —  her  with 
the  fine  pleasure  gardens  and  swings  and  so  on.  And  Job 
Legg's  her  potman.  Her  husband's  right  hand  while  he 
lived,  and  now  hers.  I  have  the  use  of  their  stable-yard 
market  days,  for  their  custom  is  different  from  mine.  A 
woman's  house  and  famous  for  her  meat  teas  and  lunch- 
eons. She  does  very  well  and  deserves  to." 

"  That  old  lady  with  the  yellow  wig?  " 

Mr.  Gurd  pursed  his  lips. 

"  To  you  she  might  seem  old,  I  suppose.  That's  the 
spirit  that  puts  a  bit  of  a  strain  on  the  middle-aged  and 
makes  such  men  as  me  bring  home  to  ourselves  what  we 
said  and  thought  when  we  were  young.  'Tis  just  the  nat- 
ural, thoughtless  insolence  of  youth  to  say  Nelly  North- 
over's  an  old  woman  —  her  being  perhaps  eight-and-forty. 
And  to  call  her  hair  a  wig,  because  she's  fortified  it  with 
home-grown  what's  fallen  out  over  a  period  of  twenty 
years,  is  again  only  the  insolence  of  youth.  One  can  only 
say  *  forgive  'em,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.' ' 

"  Well,  get  me  another  brandy  anyway." 

Then  entered  Raymond  Ironsyde,  and  Mr.  Gurd  for 
once  felt  genuinely  sorry  to  see  his  customer. 

The  young  man  was  handsome  with  large,  luminous,  grey 
eyes,  curly,  brown  hair  and  a  beautiful  mouth,  clean  cut, 
full,  firm  and  finely  modelled  in  the  lips.  His  nose  was 
straight,  high  in  the  nostril  and  sensitive.  He  resembled 
his  brother,  Daniel,  but  stood  three  inches  taller,  and  his 
brow  was  fuller  and  loftier.  His  expression  in  repose  ap- 
peared frank  and  receptive ;  but  to-day  his  face  wore  a  look 
half  anxious,  half  ferocious.  He  was  clad  in  tweed  knick- 
erbockers and  a  Norfolk  jacket,  of  different  pattern  but 
similar  material.  His  tie  was  light  blue  and  fastened  with 


so  THE  SPINNERS 

a  gold  pin  modelled  in  the  shape  of  a  hunting-horn.  He 
bore  no  mark  of  mourning  whatever. 

"  Whiskey  and  soda,  Gurd.     Morning,  Neddy." 

He  spoke  defiantly,  as  though  knowing  his  entrance  was 
a  challenge.  Then  he  flung  himself  down  on  a  cushioned 
seat  in  the  bow  window  of  the  bar-room  and  took  a  pipe 
and  tobacco  pouch  from  his  pocket. 

Mr.  Gurd  brought  the  drink  round  to  Raymond.  He 
spoke  upon  some  general  subject  and  pretended  to  no 
astonishment  that  the  young  man  should  be  here  on  this 
day.  But  the  customer  cut  him  short.  There  was  only 
one  subject  for  discussion  in  his  mind. 

"  I  suppose  you  thought  I  should  go  to  my  father's 
funeral?  No  doubt,  you'll  say,  with  everybody  else,  that 
it's  a  disgrace  I  haven't." 

"  I  shall  mind  my  own  business  and  say  nothing,  Mister 
Raymond.  It's  your  affair,  not  ours." 

"  I'd  have  done  the  same,  Ray,  if  I'd  been  treated  the 
same,"  said  Neddy  Motyer. 

"  It's  a  protest,"  explained  Raymond  Ironsyde.  "  To 
have  gone,  after  being  publicly  outraged  like  this  in  my 
father's  will,  was  impossible  to  anybody  but  a  cur.  He 
ignored  me  as  his  son,  and  so  I  ignore  him  as  my  father; 
and  who  wouldn't?  " 

"  I  suppose  Daniel  will  come  up  to  the  scratch  all 
right?  "  hazarded  Motyer. 

"  He'll  make  some  stuffy  suggestion,  no  doubt.  He 
can't  see  me  in  the  gutter  very  well." 

"  You  must  get  to  work,  Mr.  Raymond ;  and  I  can  tell 
you,  as  one  who  knows,  that  work's  only  dreaded  by  them 
who  have  never  done  any.  You'll  soon  find  that  there's 
nothing  better  for  the  nerves  and  temper  than  steady 
work." 

Neddy  chaffed  Mr.  Gurd's  sentiments  and  Raymond  said 
nothing.  He  was  looking  in  front  of  him,  his  mind  occu- 
pied with  personal  problems. 


AT  '  THE  TIGER  '  21 

Neddy  Motyer  made  another  encouraging  suggestion. 

"  There's  your  aunt,  Miss  Ironsyde,"  he  said.  "  She's 
got  plenty  of  cash,  I've  heard  people  say,  and  she  gives 
tons  away  in  charity.  How  do  you  stand  with  her?" 

"  Mind  your  own  business,  Ned." 

"  Sorry,"  answered  the  other  promptly.  "  Only  wanted 
to  buck  you  up." 

"  I'm  not  in  need  of  any  bucking  up,  thanks.  If  I've 
got  to  work,  I'm  quite  equal  to  it.  I've  got  more  brains 
than  Daniel,  anyway.  I'm  quite  conscious  of  that." 

"  You've  got  tons  more  mind  than  him,"  declared  Neddy. 

"  And  if  that's  the  case,  I  could  do  more  good,  if  I 
chose,  than  ever  Daniel  will." 

"  Or  more  harm,"  warned  Mr.  Gurd.  "  Always  remem- 
ber that,  Mister  Raymond.  The  bigger  the  intellects,  the 
more  power  for  wrong  as  well  as  right." 

"  He'll  ask  me  to  go  into  the  works,  I  expect.  And  I 
may,  or  I  may  not." 

"  I  should,"  advised  Neddy.  "  Bridetown  is  a  very 
sporting  place  and  you'd  be  alongside  your  pal,  Arthur 
Waldron." 

"  Don't  go  to  Bridetown  with  an  idea  of  sport,  how- 
ever —  don't  do  that,  Mister  Raymond,"  warned  Richard 
Gurd.  "  If  you  go,  you  put  your  back  into  the  work  and 
master  the  business  of  the  Mill." 

The  young  men  wasted  an  hour  in  futile  talk  and  need- 
less drinking  while  Gurd  attended  to  other  customers. 
Then  Raymond  Ironsyde  accepted  an  invitation  to  return 
home  with  Motyer,  who  lived  at  Eype,  a  mile  away. 

"  I'm  going  to  give  my  people  a  rest  to-day,"  said 
Raymond  as  he  departed.  "  I  shall  come  in  here  for 
dinner,  Dick." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Gurd ;  but  he  shook  his 
head  when  the  young  men  had  gone. 

Others  in  the  bar  hummed  on  the  subject  of  young  Iron- 
syde after  his  back  was  turned.  A  few  stood  up  for  him 


22  THE  SPINNERS 

and  held  that  he  had  been  too  severely  dealt  with;  but  the 
majority  and  those  who  knew  most  about  him  thought  that 
his  ill-fortune  was  deserved. 

"  For  look  at  it,"  said  a  tradesman,  who  knew  the  facts. 
"  If  he'd  been  left  money,  he'd  have  only  wasted  the  lot  in 
sporting  and  been  worse  off  after  than  before ;  but  now 
he's  up  against  work,  and  work  may  be  the  saving  of  him. 
And  if  he  won't  work,  let  him  die  the  death  and  get  off 
the  earth  and  make  room  for  a  better  man." 

None  denied  the  honourable  obligation  to  work  for  every 
responsible  human  being. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    HACKLER 

THE  warehouse  of  Bridetown  Mill  adjoined  the  church- 
yard wall  and  its  northern  windows  looked  down  upon  the 
burying  ground.  The  store  came  first  and  then  the  fore- 
man's home,  a  thatched  dwelling  bowered  in  red  and  white 
roses,  with  the  mill  yard  in  front  and  a  garden  behind. 
From  these  the  works  were  separated  by  the  river.  Bride 
came  by  a  mill  race  to  do  her  share,  and  a  water  wheel, 
conserving  her  strength,  took  it  to  the  machinery.  For 
Benny  Cogle's  engine  was  reinforced  by  the  river.  Then, 
speeding  forward,  Bride  returned  to  her  native  bed,  which 
wound  through  the  valley  south  of  the  works. 

A  bridge  crossed  the  river  from  the  yard  and  communi- 
cated with  the  mills  —  a  heterogeneous  pile  of  dim,  dun 
colours  and  irregular  roofs  huddled  together  with  silver- 
bright  excrescences  of  corrugated  iron.  A  steady  hum 
and  drone  as  of  some  gigantic  beehive  ascended  from  the 
mills,  and  their  combined  steam  and  water  power  produced 
a  tremor  of  earth  and  a  steady  roar  in  the  air;  while  a 
faint  dust  storm  often  flickered  about  the  entrance  ways. 

The  store-house  reeked  with  that  fat,  heavy  odour  pe- 
culiar to  hemp  and  flax.  It  was  a  lofty  building  of  wide 
doors  and  few  windows.  Here  in  the  gloom  lay  bales  and 
stacks  of  raw  material.  Italy,  Russia,  India,  had  sent 
their  scutched  hemp  and  tow  to  Bridetown.  Some  was  in 
the  rough;  the  dressed  line  had  already  been  hackled  and 
waited  in  bundles  of  long  hemp  composed  of  wisps,  or 
'  stricks  '  like  horses'  tails.  The  silver  and  amber  of  the 
material  made  flashes  of  brightness  in  the  dark  store- 
rooms and  drew  the  light  to  their  shining  surfaces.  Tall, 

23 


«*  THE  SPINNERS 

brown  posts  supported  the  rafters,  and  in  the  twilight  that 
reigned  here,  a  man  moved  among  the  bales  piled  roof- 
high  around  him.  He  was  gathering  rough  tow  from  a 
broken  bale  of  Russian  hemp  and  had  stripped  the  Arch- 
angel matting  from  the  mass. 

Levi  Baggs,  the  hackler,  proceeded  presently  to  weigh 
his  material  and  was  taking  it  over  the  bridge  to  the 
hackling  shop  when  he  met  John  Best,  the  foreman.  They 
stopped  to  speak,  and  Levi  set  down  the  barrow  that  bore 
his  load. 

"  I  see  you  with  him,  yesterday.  Did  you  get  any  ideas 
out  of  the  man?  " 

Baggs  referred  to  the  new  master  and  John  Best  under- 
stood. 

"  In  a  manner  of  speaking,  yes,"  he  said.  "  Nothing 
definite,  of  course.  It's  too  soon  to  talk  of  changes,  even 
if  Mister  Daniel  means  them.  He'll  carry  on  as  before 
for  the  present,  and  think  twice  and  again  before  he  does 
anything  different  from  his  father." 

"  'Tis  just  Bridetown  luck  if  he's  the  sort  to  keep  at  a 
dead  parent's  apron-strings,"  grumbled  the  other. 
"  Nowadays,  what  with  education  and  so  on,  the  rising 
generation  is  generally  ahead  of  the  last  and  moves  accord- 
ing." 

"  You  can  move  two  ways  —  backward  as  well  as  for- 
ward," answered  Best.  "  Better  he  should  go  on  as  we've 
been  going,  than  go  back." 

"  He  daren't  go  back  —  the  times  won't  let  him.  The 
welfare  of  the  workers  is  the  first  demand  on  capital  now- 
adays. If  it  weren't,  labour  would  very  soon  know  the 
reason  why." 

Mr.  Best  regarded  Levi  without  admiration. 

"  You  are  a  grumbler  born,"  he  said,  "  and  so  fond  of 
it  that  you  squeal  before  you're  hurt,  just  for  the  pleasure 
of  squealing.  One  thing  I  can  tell  you,  for  Mister  Daniel 
said  it  in  so  many  words:  he's  the  same  in  politics  as  his 
father;  and  that's  Liberal;  and  since  the  Liberals  of  yes- 


THE  HACKLER  25 

terday  are  the  Radicals  of  to-morrow,  we  have  every  rea- 
son to  suppose  he'll  move  with  the  times." 

"  We  all  know  what  that  means,"  answered  Mr.  Baggs. 
"  It  means  getting  new  machinery  and  increasing  the  out- 
put of  the  works  for  the  benefit  of  the  owners,  not  them 
that  run  the  show.  I  don't  set  no  store  on  a  man  being 
a  Radical  nowadays.  You  can't  trust  nobody  under  a 
Socialist." 

Mr.  Best  laughed. 

"  You  wait  till  they've  got  the  power,  and  you'll  find 
that  the  whip  will  fall  just  as  heavy  from  their  hands  as 
the  masters  of  to-day.  Better  to  get  small  money  and  be 
free,  than  get  more  and  go  a  slave  in  state  clothes,  on  state 
food,  in  a  state  house,  with  a  state  slave-driver  to  see  you 
earn  your  state  keep  and  take  your  state  holidays  when 
the  state  wills,  and  work  as  much  or  as  little  as  the  state 
pleases.  What  you  chaps  call  '  liberty '  you'll  find  is 
something  quite  different,  Baggs,  for  it  means  good-bye  to 
privacy  in  the  home  and  independence  outside  it." 

"  That's  a  false  and  wicked  idea  of  progress,  John 
Best,  and  well  you  know  it,"  answered  Levi.  "  You're  one 
of  the  sort  content  to  work  on  a  chain  and  bring  up  your 
children  likewise;  but  you  can't  stand  between  the  human 
race  and  freedom  —  no  more  can  Daniel  Ironsyde,  or  any 
other  man." 

"  Well,  meantime,  till  the  world's  put  right  by  your 
friends,  you  get  on  with  your  hackling,  my  old  bird,  else 
you'll  have  the  spreaders  grumbling,"  answered  Mr.  Best. 
Then  he  went  into  his  home  and  Levi  trundled  the  wheel- 
barrow to  a  building  with  a  tar-pitched,  penthouse  roof, 
which  stuck  out  from  the  side  of  the  mill,  like  a  fungus  on 
a  tree  stem. 

Within,  before  a  long,  low  window,  stood  the  hand 
dresser's  tools  —  two  upturned  boards  set  with  a  mass  of 
steel  pins.  The  larger  board  had  tall  teeth  disposed 
openly;  upon  the  smaller,  the  teeth  were  shorter  and  as 
dense  as  a  hair  brush.  In  front  of  them  opened  a  grating 


26  THE  SPINNERS 

and  above  ran  an  endless  band.  Behind  this  grille  was  an 
exhaust,  which  sucked  away  the  dust  and  countless  atoms 
of  vegetable  matter  scattered  by  Levi's  activities,  and  the 
running  band  from  above  worked  it.  For  the  authorities, 
he  despised,  considered  the  operations  of  Mr.  Baggs  and 
ordained  that  they  should  be  conducted  under  healthy 
conditions. 

He  took  his  seat  now  before  the  rougher's  hackle,  turned 
up  his  shirt  sleeves  over  a  pair  of  sinewy  arms  and  power- 
ful wrists  and  set  to  work. 

From  the  mass  of  hemp  tow  he  drew  hanks  and  beat  the 
pins  with  them  industriously,  wrenched  the  mass  through 
the  steel  teeth  again  and  again  and  separated  the  short 
fibre  from  the  long.  Presently  in  his  hand  emerged  a  wisp 
of  bright  fibre,  and  now  flogging  the  finer  hackling  board, 
he  extracted  still  more  short  stalks  and  rubbish  till  the 
finished  strick  came  clean  and  shining  as  a  lock  of  woman's 
hair.  From  the  hanks  of  long  tow  he  seemed  to  bring  out 
the  tresses  like  magic.  In  his  swift  hand  each  strick 
flashed  out  from  the  rough  hank  with  great  rapidity,  and 
every  crafty,  final  touch  on  the  teeth  made  it  brighter. 
Giving  a  last  flick  or  two  over  the  small  pins,  Mr.  Baggs 
set  down  his  strick  and  soon  a  pile  of  these  shining  locks 
grew  beside  him,  while  the  exhaust  sucked  away  the  rub- 
bish and  fragments,  and  the  mass  of  short  fibre  which  he 
had  combed  out,  also  accumulated  for  future  treatment. 

He  worked  with  the  swiftness  and  surety  of  a  master 
craftsman,  scourged  his  tow  and  snorted  sometimes  as  he 
struggled  with  it.  He  was  exerting  a  tremendous  pres- 
sure, regulated  and  applied  with  skill,  and  he  always  ex- 
ulted in  the  thought  that  he,  at  least,  of  all  the  workers 
performed  hand  labour  far  more  perfectly  than  any  ma- 
chine. But  still  it  was  not  the  least  of  his  many  grievances 
that  Government  showed  too  little  concern  for  his  com- 
fort. He  was  always  demanding  increased  precautions  for 
purifying  the  air  he  breathed.  From  first  to  last,  indeed, 
the  hemp  and  tow  are  shedding  superfluities,  and  a  layman 


THE  HACKLER  27 

is  astonished  to  see  how  the  broad  strips  and  ribbons  run- 
ning through  the  machines  and  torn  by  innumerable  sys- 
tems of  sharp  teeth  in  transit,  emerge  at  the  last  gasp  of 
attenuation  to  trickle  down  the  spindles  and  turn  into  the 
glory  of  yarn. 

From  Mr.  Baggs,  the  long  fibre  and  the  short  which  he 
had  combed  out  of  it,  proceeded  to  the  spinning  mill ;  and 
now  a  girl  came  for  the  stricks  he  had  just  created. 

Their  future  under  the  new  master  was  still  on  every 
tongue  at  Bridetown  Mill,  and  the  women  turned  to  the 
few  men  who  worked  among  them  for  information  on  this 
paramount  subject. 

"  No,  I  ain't  heard  no  more,  Sarah,"  answered  the  hack- 
ler  to  Miss  Northover's  question.  "  You  may  be  sure  that 
those  it  concerns  most  will  be  the  last  to  hear  of  any 
changes ;  and  you  may  also  be  sure  that  the  changes,  when 
made,  will  not  favour  us." 

"  You  can't  tell  that,"  answered  Sarah,  gathering  the 
stricks.  "  Old  Mrs.  Chick,  our  spreader  minder,  says  the 
young  have  always  got  bigger  hearts  than  the  old,  and 
she'd  sooner  trust  them  than " 

Mr.  Baggs  tore  a  hank  through  the  comb  with  such 
vigour  that  its  steel  teeth  trembled  and  the  dust  flew. 

"  Tell  Granny  Chick  not  to  be  a  bigger  fool  than  God 
made  her,"  he  said.  "  The  young  have  got  harder  hearts 
than  the  old,  and  education,  though  it  may  make  the  head 
bigger  for  all  I  know,  makes  the,  heart  smaller.  He'll  be 
hard  —  hard  —  and  I  lay  a  week's  wages  that  he'll  get 
out  of  his  responsibilities  by  shovelling  'em  on  his  dead 
father." 

"  How  can  he?  "  asked  Sarah. 

"  By  letting  things  be  as  they  are.  By  saying  his  father 
knew  best." 

"  Young  men  never  think  that,"  answered  she.  "  'Tis 
well  known  that  no  young  man  ever  thought  his  father 
knew  better  than  himself." 

"  Then  he'll  pretend  to  for  his  own  convenience." 


28  THE  SPINNERS 

"  What  about  all  that  talk  of  changes  for  the  better 
before  Mister  Ironsyde  died  then?  " 

"  Talk  of  dead  men  won't  go  far.  We'll  hear  no  more 
of  that." 

Sarah  frowned  and  went  her  way.  At  the  door,  how- 
ever, she  turned. 

"  I  might  get  to  hear  something  about  it  next  Sunday 
very  like,"  she  said.  "  I'm  going  into  Bridport  to  my 
Aunt  Nelly  at '  The  Seven  Stars  ' ;  and  she's  a  great  friend 
of  Richard  Gurd  at  *  The  Tiger  ' ;  and  'tis  there  Mister 
Raymond  spends  half  his  time,  they  say.  So  Mr.  Gurd 
may  have  learned  a  bit  about  it-" 

"  No  doubt  he'll  hear  a  lot  of  words,  and  as  for  Ray- 
mond Ironsyde,  his  father  knew  him  for  a  man  with  a  bit 
of  a  heart  in  him  and  didn't  trust  him  accordingly.  But 
you  can  take  it  from  me " 

A  bell  rang  and  its  note  struck  Mr.  Baggs  dumb.  He 
ceased  both  to  speak  and  work,  dropped  his  hank,  turned 
down  his  shirt  sleeves  and  put  on  his  coat.  Sarah  at  the 
stroke  of  the  bell  also  manifested  no  further  interest  in 
Levi's  forebodings  but  left  him  abruptly.  For  it  was  noon 
and  the  dinner-hour  had  come. 


CHAPTER  It 

CHAINS    FOR    RAYMOND 

RAYMOND  IRONSYDE  had  spent  his  life  thus  far  in  a  healthy 
and  selfish  manner.  He  owned  no  objection  to  hard  work 
of  a  physical  nature,  for  as  a  sportsman  and  athlete  he  had 
achieved  fame  and  was  jealous  to  increase  it.  He  pre- 
served the  perspective  of  a  boy  into  manhood ;  while  his 
father  waited,  not  without  exasperation,  for  him  to  reach 
adult  estate  in  mind  as  well  as  body.  Henry  Ironsyde 
was  still  waiting  when  he  died  and  left  Raymond  to  the 
mercy  of  Daniel. 

Now  the  brothers  had  met  to  thresh  out  the  situation; 
and  a  day  came  when  Raymond  lunched  with  his  friend  and 
fellow  sportsman,  Arthur  Waldron,  of  North  Hill  House, 
and  furnished  him  with  particulars. 

In  time  past,  Raymond's  grandfather  had  bought  a 
thousand  acres  of  land  on  the  side  of  North  Hill.  Here 
he  destroyed  one  old  farmhouse  and  converted  another  into 
the  country-seat  of  his  family.  He  lived  and  died  there ; 
but  his  son,  Henry,  cared  not  for  it,  and  the  place  had  been 
let  to  successive  tenants  for  many  years. 

Waldron  was  the  last  of  these,  and  Raymond's  ambition 
had  always  been  some  day  to  return  to  North  Hill  House 
and  dwell  in  his  grandfather's  home. 

At  luncheon  the  party  of  three  sat  at  a  round  table  on 
a  polished  floor  of  oak.  Estelle  played  hostess  and  gazed 
with  frank  admiration  at  the  chattering  visitor.  He 
brought  a  proposition  that  made  her  feel  very  excited  to 
learn  what  her  father  would  think  of  it. 

Mr.  Waldron  was  tall  and  thin.  He  lived  out  of  doors 
and  appeared  to  be  made  of  iron,  for  nothing  wearied  him 

29 


30  THE  SPINNERS 

as  yet.  He  had  high  cheek-bones,  and  a  clean-shaved, 
agreeable  face.  He  took  sport  most  seriously,  was  jealous 
for  its  rights  and  observant  of  its  rituals  even  in  the  small- 
est matters.  Upon  the  etiquette  of  all  field  sports  he 
regarded  himself,  and  was  regarded,  as  an  arbiter. 

"  Tell  me  how  it  went,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  your  brother 
was  sporting?  " 

Mr.  Waldron  used  this  adjective  in  the  widest  possible 
sense.  It  embraced  all  reputable  action  and  covered  vir- 
tue. If  conduct  were  *  sporting,'  he  demanded  no  more 
from  any  man ;  while,  conversely,  *  unsporting '  deeds  con- 
demned the  doer  in  all  relations  of  life  and  rendered  him 
untrustworthy  from  every  standpoint. 

"  Depends  what  you  call  *  sporting,'  "  answered  Ray- 
mond, whose  estimate  of  the  word  was  not  so  comprehen- 
sive. "  You'd  think  it  would  have  been  rather  a  case  for 
generosity,  but  Dan  didn't  seem  to  see  that.  It's  unlucky 
for  me  in  a  way  he's  not  larger-minded.  He's  content 
with  justice  —  what  he  calls  justice.  But  justice  depends 
on  the  mind  that's  got  to  do  it.  There's  no  finality  about 
it,  and  what  Daniel  calls  justice,  I  call  beastly  peddling,  if 
not  actual  bullying." 

"  And  what  did  he  call  justice?  " 

"  Well,  his  first  idea  was  to  be  just  to  my  father,  who 
was  wickedly  unjust  to  me.  That  wasn't  too  good  for  a 
start,  for  if  you  are  going  to  punish  the  living,  because 
the  dead  wanted  them  to  be  punished,  what  price  your  jus- 
tice anyway?  But  Daniel  had  a  sort  of  beastly  fairness 
too,  for  he  recognised  that  my  father's  very  sudden  death 
must  be  taken  into  account.  My  Aunt  Jenny  supported 
me  there ;  and  she  was  sure  he  would  have  altered  his  will 
if  he  had  had  time.  Daniel  granted  that,  and  I  began  to 
hope  I  was  going  to  come  well  out  of  it ;  but  I  counted  my 
chickens  before  they  were  hatched.  Some  people  have  a 
sort  of  diseased  idea  of  the  value  of  work  and  seem  to 
think  if  you  don't  put  ten  hours  a  day  into  an  office,  you're 
not  justifying  your  existence.  Unfortunately  for  me 


CHAINS  FOR  RAYMOND  31 

Daniel  is  one  of  those  people.  If  you  don't  work,  you 
oughtn't  to  eat  —  he  actually  thinks  that." 

"  The  fallacy  is  that  what  seems  to  be  play  to  a  mind  like 
Daniel's,  is  really  seen  to  be  work  by  a  larger  mind,"  ex- 
plained Arthur  Waldron.  "  Sport,  for  instance,  which  is 
the  backbone  of  British  character,  is  a  thousand  times 
more  important  to  the  nation  than  spinning  yarn ;  and  we, 
who  keep  up  the  great  tradition  of  British  sport  on  the 
highest  possible  plane,  are  doing  a  great  deal  more  valu- 
able work  —  unpaid,  mark  you  —  than  mere  merchants 
and  people  of  that  kind  who  toil  after  money." 

"  Of  course ;  but  I  never  yet  met  a  merchant  who  would 
see  it  —  certainly  not  Daniel.  In  fact  I've  got  to  work  — 
in  his  way." 

"  D'you  mean  he's  stopping  the  allowance?  " 

"  Yes.  At  least  he's  not  renewing  it.  He's  offering  me 
a  salary  if  I'll  work.  A  jolly  good  salary,  I  grant.  I 
can  be  just  to  him,  though  he  can't  to  me.  But,  if  I'm 
going  to  draw  the  salary,  I've  got  to  learn  the  business  and, 
in  fact,  go  into  it  and  become  a  spinner.  Then,  at  the 
end  of  five  years,  if  I  shine  and  really  get  keen  about  it 
and  help  the  show,  he'll  take  me  into  partnership.  That's 
his  offer ;  and  first  I  told  him  to  go  to  the  devil,  and  then  I 
changed  my  mind  and,  after  my  aunt  had  sounded  Daniel 
and  found  that  was  his  ultimatum,  I  climbed  down." 

"  What  are  you  to  do  ?  Surely  he  won't  chain  an  open- 
air  man  like  you  to  a  wretched  desk  all  your  time?  " 

"  So  I  thought ;  but  he  didn't  worry  about  that.  I 
wanted  to  go  abroad,  and  combine  business  with  pleasure, 
and  buy  the  raw  material  in  Russia  and  India  and  Italy 
and  so  on.  That  might  have  been  good  enough ;  but  in  his 
rather  cold-blooded  way,  he  pointed  out  that  to  buy  raw 
material,  you  wanted  to  know  something  about  raw  mate- 
rial. He  asked  me  if  I  knew  hemp  from  flax,  and  of  course 
I  had  to  say  I  did  not.  So  that  put  the  lid  on  that. 
I've  got  to  begin  where  Daniel  began  ten  years  ago  —  at 
the  beginning  —  with  this  difference,  that  I  get  three  hun- 


32  THE  SPINNERS 

dred  quid  a  year.  In  fact  there's  such  a  mixture  of  fair- 
ness and  unfairness  in  Daniel's  idea  that  you  don't  know 
where  to  have  him." 

"  What  shall  you  do  about  it?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I've  agreed.  I  must  live,  obviously,  and  I'd 
always  meant  to  do  something  some  day.  But  naturally 
my  ideas  were  open  air,  and  I  thought  when  I  got  things 
going  and  took  a  scheme  to  my  father  —  for  horse-breed- 
ing or  some  useful  enterprise  —  he  would  have  seen  I  meant 
business  and  come  round  and  planked  down.  But  Daniel 
has  got  no  use  for  horse-breeding,  so  I  must  be  a  spinner  — 
for  the  time  anyway." 

Estelle  ventured  to  speak. 

"  But  only  girls  spin,"  she  said.  "  You'd  never  be  able 
to  spin,  Ray." 

Raymond  laughed. 

"  Everybody's  got  to  spin,  it  seems,"  he  answered. 

"  Except  the  lilies,"  declared  Estelle  gravely.  "  *  They 
toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin,'  you  know." 

Mr.  Waldron  regarded  his  daughter  with  respect. 

"  Just  imagine,"  he  said,  "  at  her  age.  They've  made 
her  a  member  of  the  Field  Botanists'  Club.  Only  eleven 
years  old  and  invited  to  join  a  grown-up  club!  " 

Raymond  was  somewhat  impressed. 

"  Fancy  a  kid  like  you  knowing  anything  about  botany," 
he  said. 

"  I  don't,"  answered  the  child.  "  I'm  only  just  begin- 
ning. Why,  I  haven't  mastered  the  grasses  yet.  The 
flowers  are  easy,  of  course,  but  the  grasses  are  ever  so 
difficult." 

They  returned  to  Ironsyde's  plans. 

"  And  when  d'you  weigh  in  ?  "  queried  his  friend. 

"That's  the  point.  That's  why  I  invited  myself  to 
lunch.  Daniel  doesn't  want  me  in  the  office  at  Bridport; 
he  wants  me  here  —  at  Bridetown  —  so  that  I  can  mess 
about  in  the  works  and  see  a  lot  of  John  Best,  the  fore- 
man, and  learn  all  the  practical  side  of  the  business.  It 


CHAINS  FOR  RAYMOND  33 

seems  rather  footling  work  for  a  man,  but  he  did  it ;  and 
he  says  the  first  thing  is  to  get  a  personal  understanding  of 
the  processes  and  all  that.  Of  course  I've  always  been 
keen  on  machinery." 

"  Good,  then  we  shall  see  something  of  each  other." 

"  That's  what  I  want  —  more  than  you  do,  very  likely. 
The  idea  was  that  I  went  to  Uncle  Ernest,  who  is  willing 
to  let  me  have  a  room  at  '  The  Magnolias  '  and  live  with 
him  for  a  year,  which  is  the  time  Daniel  wants  me  to  be 
here;  but  I  couldn't  stick  Churchouse  for  a  year." 

"  Naturally." 

"  So  what  do  you  say  ?  Are  you  game  for  a  paying 
guest?  You've  got  tons  of  room  and  I  shouldn't  be  in 
the  way." 

"  How  lovely  !  "  cried  Estelle.     "  Do  come !  " 

Arthur  Waldron  was  quietly  gratified. 

"  I'm  sure  I  should  be  delighted  to  have  a  pal  in  the 
house  —  a  kindred  spirit,  who  understands  sport.  By  all 
means  come,"  he  said. 

"  You're  sure?  I  should  be  out  most  of  my  time  at  the 
blessed  works,  you  know.  Could  I  bring  my  horse?  " 

"  Certainly  bring  your  horse." 

"  That  reminds  me  of  one  reasonable  thing  Dan's  going 
to  do,"  ran  on  the  other.  "  He's  going  to  clear  me.  I 
told  Aunt  Jenny  it  was  no  good  beginning  a  new  life  with 
a  millstone  of  debts  round  my  neck  —  in  fact  we  came 
down  to  that.  I  said  it  was  a  vital  condition.  Aunt 
Jenny  had  rather  a  lively  time  between  us.  She  sympa- 
thises with  me  tremendously,  however,  and  finally  got  Dan- 
iel to  promise  he  would  pay  off  every  penny  I  owed  —  a 
paltry  two  hundred  or  so." 

"  A  very  sporting  arrangement.  Make  the  coffee,  Es- 
telle, then  we'll  take  a  walk  on  the  downs." 

"  I'm  going  to  Uncle  Ernest  to  tea,"  explained  Ray- 
mond. "  I  shall  tell  him  then  that  I'm  not  coming  to  him, 
thanks  to  your  great  kindness." 

"He    will    be    disappointed,"    declared    Estelle.     "It 


3*  THE  SPINNERS 

seems  rather  hard  of  us  to  take  you  away  from  him,  I'm 
afraid." 

"  Don't  you  worry,  kiddy.  He'll  get  over  it.  In  fact 
he'll  be  jolly  thankful,  poor  old  bird.  He  only  did  it  be- 
cause he  thought  he  ought  to.  It's  the  old,  traditional 
attitude  of  the  Churchouses  to  the  Ironsydes." 

"  He's  very  wise  about  church  bells,  but  he's  rather 
vague  about  flowers,"  replied  Estelle.  "  He's  only  inter- 
ested in  dead  things,  I  think;  and  things  that  happened 
long,  long  ago." 

"  In  a  weird  sort  of  way,  a  hobby  is  a  man's  substitute 
for  sport,  I  believe,"  said  Estelle's  father.  "  Many  have 
no  feeling  for  sport ;  it's  left  out  of  them  and  they  seem  to 
be  able  to  live  comfortably  without  it.  Instead  they  de- 
velop an  instinct  for  something  else.  Generally  it's  deadly 
from  the  sportsman's  point  of  view ;  but  it  seems  to  take 
the  place  of  sport  to  the  sportless.  How  old  ruins,  or 
church  bells,  can  supersede  a  vital,  living  thing,  like  the 
sport  of  a  nation,  of  course  you  and  I  can't  explain;  but 
so  it  is  with  some  minds." 

"  It  depends  how  they  were  brought  up,"  suggested 
Raymond. 

"  No  —  take  you ;  you  weren't  brought  up  to  sport. 
But  your  own  natural,  good  instinct  took  you  to  it. 
Same  with  me.  The  moment  I  saw  a  ball,  I'm  told  that  I 
shrieked  till  they  gave  it  to  me  —  at  the  age  of  one  that 
was.  And  from  that  time  forward  they  had  no  trouble 
with  me.  A  ball  always  calmed  me.  Why?  Because  a 
ball,  you  may  say,  is  the  emblem  of  England's  greatness. 
I  was  thinking  over  it  not  long  ago.  There  is  not  a 
single  game  of  the  first  importance  that  does  not  depend 
on  a  ball.  If  one  had  brains,  one  could  write  a  book  on 
the  inner  meaning  of  that  fact.  I  believe  that  the  ball 
has  a  lot  to  do  with  the  greatness  of  the  Empire." 

"A  jolly  good  idea.  I'll  try  it  on  Uncle  Ernest," 
promised  Raymond. 

He  was  cheerful  and  depressed  in  turn.     His  company 


CHAINS  FOR  RAYMOND  35 

made  him  happy  and  the  thought  that  he  would  come  to 
live  at  North  Hill  House  also  pleased  him  well;  but  from 
time  to  time  the  drastic  change  in  his  life  swept  his 
thoughts  like  a  cloud.  The  picture  of  regular  work  — 
unloved  work  that  would  enable  him  to  live  —  struck  dis- 
tastefully upon  his  mind. 

They  strolled  over  North  Hill  after  luncheon  and  Estelle 
ran  hither  and  thither,  busy  with  two  quests.  Her  sharp 
eyes  were  in  the  herbage  for  the  flowers  and  grasses ;  but 
she  also  sought  the  feathers  of  the  rooks  and  crows  who 
assembled  here  in  companies. 

"  The  wing  feathers  are  the  best  for  father's  pipes," 
she  explained ;  "  but  the  tail  feathers  are  also  very  good. 
Sometimes  I  get  splendid  luck  and  find  a  dozen  or  two  in  a 
morning,  and  sometimes  the  birds  don't  seem  to  have 
parted  with  a  single  feather.  The  place  to  find  them  is 
round  the  furze  clumps,  because  they  catch  there  when 
the  wind  blows  them." 

The  great  hogged  ridge  of  North  Hill  keeps  Bridetown 
snug  in  winter  time,  and  bursts  the  snow  clouds  on  its 
bosom.  To-day  the  breezes  blew  and  shadows  raced  above 
the  rolling  green  expanses.  The  downs  were  broken  by 
dry-built  walls  and  spattered  with  thickets  of  furze  and 
white-thorn,  black-thorn  and  elder.  Blue  milkwort,  but- 
tercups and  daisies  adorned  them,  with  eye-bright  and  the 
lesser,  quaking  grass  that  danced  over  the  green.  Rabbits 
twinkled  into  the  furzes  where  Waldron's  three  fox  terriers 
ran  before  the  party  ;  and  now  and  then  a  brave  buck  coney 
would  stand  upon  the  nibbled  knoll  above  his  burrow  and 
drum  danger  before  he  darted  in.  It  was  a  haunt  of  the 
cuckoo  and  peewit,  the  bunting  and  carrion  crow. 

"  Here  we  killed  on  the  seventeenth  of  January  last," 
said  Raymond's  host.  "  A  fine  finish  to  a  grand  run.  We 
rolled  him  over  on  this  very  spot  after  forty-five  minutes 
of  the  best.  It  is  always  good  to  remember  great  moments 
in  the  past." 

On  the   southern  slope   of  North   Hill  there   stood   a 


36  THE  SPINNERS 

ruined  lime-kiln  whose  walls  were  full  of  fern  and  coated 
with  mother  o'  thyme.  A  bank  of  brier  and  nettles  lay 
before  the  mouth.  They  hid  the  foot  of  the  kiln  and  made 
a  snug  and  secluded  spot.  Bridetown  clustered  in  its  elms 
far  below;  then  the  land  rose  again  to  protect  the  hamlet 
from  the  south ;  and  beyond  stretched  the  blue  line  of  the 
Channel. 

The  men  sat  here  and  smoked,  while  Estelle  hunted  for 
flowers  and  feathers. 

She  came  back  to  them  presently  with  a  bee  orchis. 

"  For  you,"  she  said,  and  gave  it  to  Raymond. 

"  What  the  dickens  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  and  she  told  him. 

"  They're  rather  rare,  but  they  live  happily  on  the 
down  in  some  places.  I  know  where." 

He  thanked  her  very  much. 

"  Never  seen  one  before,"  he  said.  "  A  funny  little  pink 
and  black  devil,  isn't  it?  " 

"  It  isn't  a  devil,"  she  assured  him ;  "  if  anything,  it's 
an  angel.  But  really  it's  more  like  a  small  humble-bee 
than  anything.  Perhaps  you've  never  seen  a  humble-bee 
either?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  —  they  don't  sting." 

Estelle  laughed. 

"  I  thought  that  once.  A  boy  in  the  village  told  me 
that  humble-bees  have  '  got  no  spears.'  And  I  believed  him 
and  tried  to  help  one  out  of  the  window  once.  And  I  very 
soon  found  that  he  had  got  a  spear." 

"  That  reminds  me  I  must  take  a  wasps'  nest  to-night," 
said  her  father.  "  I've  not  decided  which  way  to  take  it 
yet.  There  are  seven  different  ways  to  take  a  wasps' 
nest  —  all  good." 

They  strolled  homeward  presently  and  parted  at  the 
lodge  of  North  Hill  House. 

"  You  must  come  down  and  choose  your  room  soon," 
said  Estelle.  "  It  must  be  one  that  gets  the  sun  in  it,  and 
the  moon.  People  always  want  the  sun,  but  they  never 
seem  to  want  the  moon." 


CHAINS  FOR  RAYMOND  37 

"  Don't  they,  Estelle !  I  know  lots  of  people  who  want 
the  moon,"  declared  Raymond.  "  Perhaps  I  do." 

"  You  can  have  your  choice  of  four  stalls  for  the 
horse,"  said  Arthur  Waldron.  "  I  always  ride  before 
breakfast  myself,  wet  or  fine.  Only  frost  stops  me.  I 
hope  you  will  too  —  before  you  go  to  the  works." 

Raymond  was  soon  at  '  The  Magnolias,'  and  found  Mr. 
Churchouse  expecting  him  in  the  garden.  They  had  not 
met  since  Henry  Ironsyde's  death,  but  the  elder,  fa- 
miliar with  the  situation,  did  not  speak  of  Raymond's 
father. 

He  was  anxious  to  learn  the  young  man's  decision,  and 
proved  too  ingenuous  to  conceal  his  relief  when  the  visitor 
explained  his  plans. 

"  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  offer  you  a  temporary  home,"  he 
said,  "  and  we  should  have  done  our  best  to  make  you 
comfortable,  but  one  gets  into  one's  routine  and  I  won't 
disguise  from  you  that  I  am  glad  you  go  to  North  Hill 
House,  Raymond." 

"  You  couldn't  disguise  it  if  you  tried,  Uncle  Ernest. 
You're  thankful  —  naturally.  You  don't  want  youth  in 
this  dignified  abode  of  wisdom.  Besides,  you've  got  no 
place  for  a  horse  —  you  know  you  haven't." 

"  I've  no  obj  ection  to  youth,  my  dear  boy,  but  I  can't 
pretend  that  the  manners  and  customs  of  youth  are  agree- 
able to  me.  Tobacco,  for  example,  causes  me  the  most 
acute  uneasiness.  Then  the  robustness  and  general  exag- 
geration of  the  youthful  mind  and  body !  It  rises  beyond 
fatigue,  above  the  middle-aged  desire  for  calm  and  com- 
fort. It  kicks  up  its  heels  for  sheer  joy  of  living;  it  is 
ever  in  extremes ;  it  lacks  imagination,  with  the  result  that 
it  is  ruthless.  All  these  characteristics  may  go  with  a 
delightful  personality  —  as  in  your  case,  Raymond  —  but 
let  youth  cleave  to  youth.  Youth  understands  youth. 
You  will  in  fact  be  much  happier  with  Waldron." 

"  And  you  will  be  happier  without  me." 

"  It  may  be  selfish  to  say  so,  but  I  certainly  shall." 


38  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Well,  you've  had  the  virtue  of  making  the  self-denial 
and  I  think  it  was  awfully  good  of  you  to  do  so." 

"  I  am  always  here  and  always  very  happy  and  willing 
to  befriend  the  grandson  of  my  father's  partner,"  declared 
Mr.  Churchouse.  "  It  is  excellent  news  that  you  are 
going  into  the  business." 

"  Remains  to  be  seen." 

The  dining  room  at  '  The  Magnolias  '  was  also  the  mas- 
ter's study.  There  were  innocent  little  affectations  in  it 
and  the  room  was  arranged  to  create  an  atmosphere  of 
philosophy  and  art.  Books  thronged  in  lofty  book-shelves 
with  glass  doors.  These  were  surmounted  by  plaster  busts 
of  Homer  and  Minerva,  toned  to  mellowness  by  time.  In 
the  window  was  the  writing  desk  of  Mr.  Churchouse,  upon 
which  stood  a  photograph  of  Goethe. 

Tea  was  laid  and  a  girl  brought  in  the  hot  water  when 
Mr.  Churchouse  rang  for  it.  After  she  had  gone  Ray- 
mond praised  her  enthusiastically. 

"  By  Jove,  what  a  pretty  housemaid !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Pretty,  yes ;  a  housemaid,  no,"  explained  Mr.  Church- 
ouse. "  She  is  the  daughter  of  my  housekeeper,  Mrs. 
Dinnett.  Mrs.  Dinnett  has  been  called  to  Chilcombe,  to 
see  her  old  mother  who  is,  I  fear,  going  to  die,  and  so 
Sabina,  with  her  usual  kindness,  has  spent  her  half-holiday 
at  home  to  look  after  me.  Sabina  lives  here.  She  is  Mrs. 
Dinnett's  daughter  and  one  of  the  spinners  at  the  mill.  In 
fact,  Mr.  Best  tells  me  she  is  his  most  accomplished  spin- 
ner and  has  genius  for  the  work.  In  her  leisure  she  does 
braiding  at  home,  as  many  of  the  girls  do." 

"  She's  jolly  handsome,"  declared  Raymond.  "  She's 
chucked  away  in  a  place  like  this." 

"D'you  mean  <  The  Magnolias'?"  asked  the  elder 
mildly. 

"  No,  not  '  The  Magnolias  '  particularly,  but  Bridetown 
in  general." 

"  And  why  should  Bridetown  be  denied  the  privilege  of 
numbering  a  beautiful  girl  amongst  its  population  ?  " 


CHAINS  FOR  RAYMOND  39 

"  Oh  —  why  —  she's  lost,  don't  you  see.  Working  in  a 
stuffy  mill,  she's  lost.  If  she  was  on  the  stage,  then  thou- 
sands would  see  her.  A  beautiful  thing  oughtn't  to  be 
hidden  away." 

"  God  Almighty  hides  away  a  great  many  beautiful 
things,"  answered  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  There  are  many 
beautiful  things  in  our  literature  and  our  flora  and  fauna 
that  are  never  admired." 

"  So  much  the  worse.  When  our  fauna  blossoms  out  in 
the  shape  of  a  lovely  girl,  it  ought  to  be  seen  and  give 
pleasure  to  thousands." 

Ernest  smiled. 

"  I  don't  think  Sabina  has  any  ambition  to  give  pleasure 
to  thousands.  She  is  a  young  woman  of  very  fine  temper, 
with  a  dignified  sense  of  her  own  situation  and  an  honest 
pride  in  her  own  dexterity." 

"  Engaged  to  be  married,  of  course?  " 

"  I  think  not.  She  and  her  mother  are  my  very  good 
friends.  Had  any  betrothal  taken  place,  I  feel  sure  I 
should  have  heard  of  it." 

"  Do  ring  for  her,  Mr.  Churchouse,  and  let  me  look  at 
her  again.  Does  she  know  how  good-looking  she  is  ?  " 

"  Youth !  Youth !  Yes,  not  being  a  fool,  she  knows 
she  is  well-favoured  —  much  as  you  do,  no  doubt.  I  mean 
that  you  cannot  shave  yourself  every  morning  without 
being  conscious  that  you  are  in  the  Greek  mould.  I  could 
show  you  the  engraving  of  a  statue  by  Praxiteles  which  is 
absurdly  like  you.  But  this  accident  of  nature  has  not 
made  you  vain." 

"Me!     Good  Lord!" 

Raymond  laughed  long. 

"  Do  not  be  puffed  up,"  continued  Mr.  Churchouse, 
"  for,  with  charm,  you  combine  to  a  certain  extent  the 
Greek  vacuity.  There  are  no  lines  upon  your  brow.  You 
don't  think  enough." 

"  Don't  I,  by  Jove !  I've  been  thinking  a  great  deal  too 
much  lately.  I've  had  a  headache  once." 


40  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Lack  of  practice,  my  dear  boy.  Sabina,  being  a 
woman  of  observation  and  intelligence,  is  no  doubt  aware 
of  the  fact  that  she  is  unusually  personable.  But  she  has 
brains  and  knows  exactly  what  importance  to  attach  to 
such  an  accident.  If  you  want  to  learn  what  spinning 
means,  she  will  be  able  to  teach  you." 

"  Every  cloud  has  a  silver  lining,  apparently,"  said 
Raymond,  and  when  Sabina  returned,  Ernest  introduced 
him. 

The  girl  was  clad  in  black  with  a  white  apron.  She 
wore  no  cap. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Raymond  Ironsyde,  Sabina,  and  he's  com- 
ing to  learn  all  about  the  Mill  before  long." 

Raymond  began  to  rattle  away  and  Sabina,  without 
self-consciousness,  listened  to  him,  laughed  at  his  jests  and 
answered  his  questions. 

Mr.  Churchouse  gazed  at  them  benevolently  through  his 
glasses.  He  came  unconsciously  under  the  influence  of 
their  joy  of  life. 

Their  conversation  also  pleased  him,  for  it  struck  a  right 
note  —  the  note  which  he  considered  was  seemly  between 
employer  and  employed.  He  did  not  know  that  youth  al- 
ways modifies  its  tone  in  the  presence  of  age,  and  that  those 
of  ripe  years  never  hear  the  real  truth  concerning  the  opin- 
ions of  the  younger  generation. 

When  Raymond  left  for  home  and  Mr.  Churchouse 
walked  out  to  the  gate  with  him,  Sabina  peeped  out  of  the 
kitchen  window  which  commanded  the  entrance,  and  her 
face  was  lighted  with  very  genuine  animation  and  interest. 

Mrs.  Dinnett  returned  at  midnight  tearful,  for  the  an- 
cient woman  at  Chilcombe  had  died  in  her  arms  — "  at  five 
after  five,"  as  she  said. 

Mary  Dinnett  was  an  excitable  and  pessimistic  person. 
She  always  leapt  to  meet  trouble  half  way  and  invariably 
lost  her  nerve  upon  the  least  opportunity  to  do  so.  The 
peace  of  '  The  Magnolias  *  had  long  offered  her  a  fitting 
sanctum,  for  here  life  moved  with  the  utmost  simplicity 


CHAINS  FOR  RAYMOND  41 

and  regularity ;  but,  though  as  old  as  he  was,  Mary  looked 
ahead  to  the  time  when  Mr.  Churchouse  might  fall,  and 
could  always  win  an  ample  misery  from  the  reflection  that 
she  must  then  be  at  the  mercy  of  an  unfriendly  world. 

Sabina  heard  the  full  story  of  her  grandmother's  de- 
cease with  every  detail  of  the  passing,  but  it  was  the  face 
of  a  young  man,  not  the  countenance  of  an  old  woman, 
that  flitted  through  her  thoughts  as  she  went  to  sleep  that 
night. 


CHAPTER  V 

IN    THE    MILL 

JOHN  BEST  was  taking  Raymond  Ironsyde  round  the  spin- 
ning mill,  but  the  foreman  had  his  own  theory  and  pro- 
posed to  initiate  the  young  man  by  easy  stages. 

"  You've  seen  the  storehouses  and  the  hacklers,"  he  said. 
"  Now  if  you  just  look  into  the  works  and  get  a  general 
idea  of  the  scheme  of  things,  that's  enough  for  one  day." 

In  the  great  building  two  sounds  deafened  an  unfamiliar 
ear:  a  steady  roar,  deep  and  persistent,  and  through  it, 
like  a  staccato  pulse,  a  louder,  more  painful,  more  pene- 
trating din.  The  bass  to  this  harsh  treble  arose  from 
humming  belts  and  running  wheels ;  the  crash  that  punctu- 
ated their  deep-mouthed  riot  broke  from  the  drawing  heads 
of  the  machines. 

A  lofty,  open  roof,  full  of  large  sky-lights,  covered  the 
operating  room,  and  in  its  uplifted  dome  supports  and 
struts  leapt  this  way  and  that,  while,  at  the  height  of  the 
walls,  ran  rods  supporting  rows  of  silver-bright  wheels 
from  which  the  power  descended,  through  endless  bands,  to 
the  machinery  beneath.  The  floor  was  of  stone,  and  upon 
it  were  disposed  the  various  machine  systems  —  the  Card 
and  Spreader,  the  Drawing  Frames,  Roving  Frames,  Gill 
Spinners  and  Spinning  Frames. 

The  general  blurred  effect  in  Raymond's  mind  was  one 
of  disagreeable  sound,  which  made  speech  almost  impossi- 
ble. The  din  drove  at  him  from  above  and  below;  and  it 
was  accompanied  by  a  thousand  unfamiliar  movements  of 
flying  bands  and  wheels  and  squat  masses  of  machinery  that 
convulsed  and  heaved  and  palpitated  round  him.  From 
nearly  all  the  machines  there  streamed  away  continuous 

42 


IN  THE  MILL  43 

bright  ribbons  of  hemp  or  flax,  that  caught  the  light  and 
shone.  This  was  the  '  sliver,'  the  wrought,  textile  mate- 
rial passing  through  its  many  changes  before  it  came  to 
the  spinners.  The  amber  and  lint-white  coils  of  the  wind- 
ing sliver  made  a  brightness  among  the  duns  and  drabs 
around  them  and  their  colour  was  caught  again  aloft 
where  whisps  of  material  hung  irregularly  —  lumps  of 
waste  from  the  ends  of  the  bobbins  —  and  there  were  also 
colour  notes  of  warmth  in  the  wooden  wheels  on  many  of 
the  machines.  These  struck  a  genial  tone  into  the  chill 
greys  and  flash  of  polished  steel  on  every  side. 

After  the  mechanical  activity,  movement  came  from  the 
irregular  actions  of  the  workers.  Forty  women  and  girls 
laboured  here,  and  while  some  old  people  only  sat  on  stools 
by  the  spouting  sliver  and  wound  it  away  into  the  tall  cans 
that  received  it,  other  younger  folk  were  more  intensively 
engaged.  The  massive  figure  of  Sally  Groves  lumbered  at 
her  ministry,  where  she  fed  the  Carding  Machine.  She 
was  subdued  to  the  colour  of  the  hemp  tow  with  which  she 
plied  it.  Elsewhere  Sarah  Northover  flashed  the  tresses 
of  long  lines  over  her  head  and  seemed  to  perform  a 
rhythmic  dance  with  her  hands,  as  she  tore  each  strick 
into  three  and  laid  the  shining  locks  on  her  spread  board. 
Others  tended  the  drawers  and  rovers,  while  Sabina  Din- 
nett,  Nancy  Buckler  and  Alice  Chick,  whose  high  task  it 
was  to  spin,  seemed  to  twinkle  here,  there  and  everywhere 
in  a  corybantic  measure  as  they  served  the  shouting  and 
insatiable  monsters  that  turned  hemp  and  flax  to  yarn. 

They,  indeed,  specially  attracted  Raymond,  by  the  ac- 
tivity of  their  work  and  the  charm  of  their  swift,  supple 
figures,  where,  never  still,  they  danced  about,  with  a  thou- 
sand, strenuous  activities  of  hand  and  foot  and  eye.  Their 
work  dazed  him  and  he  wanted  to  stop  here  and  ask  Sabina 
many  questions.  She  looked  much  more  beautiful  while 
spinning  than  in  her  black  dress  and  white  apron  —  so  the 
young  man  thought.  Her  work  displayed  her  neat,  slim 
shape  as  she  twirled  round,  stooped,  leapt  up  agahr 


44  THE  SPINNERS 

twisted  and  stood  on  tip-toe  in  a  thousand  fascinating  atti- 
tudes. Never  a  dancer  in  the  limelight  had  revealed  so 
much  beauty.  She  was  rayed  in  a  brown  gown  with  a 
short  skirt,  and  on  her  head  she  wore  a  grey  woollen  cap. 

But  Mr.  Best  forbade  interest  in  the  spinners. 

"  You'll  not  get  to  them  for  a  week  yet,"  he  said.  "  I'll 
ask  you  to  just  take  in  the  general  hang  of  it,  Mister  Ray- 
mond, please.  Power  comes  from  the  water-wheel  and 
the  steam  engine  and  it's  brought  down  to  each  machine. 
Just  throw  your  eyes  round.  You  ain't  here  to  look  at 
the  girls,  if  you'll  excuse  my  saying  so.  You're  here  to 
learn." 

"  You  can  learn  more  from  the  girls  than  all  these  noisy 
things  put  together,"  laughed  Raymond;  while  Mr.  Best 
shook  his  head  and  proceeded  with  his  instructions. 

"  Those  exhausts  above  each  system  suck  away  the  dust 
and  small  rubbish,"  he  explained.  "  We  shouldn't  be  able 
to  breathe  without  them." 

The  other  looked  up  and  saw  great  leaden-coloured 
tubes,  like  organ  pipes,  above  him.  Mr.  Best  droned  on 
and  strove  to  lay  a  foundation  for  future  knowledge. 
He  was  skilled  in  every  branch  of  the  work,  and  a  past 
master  of  all  spinning  mysteries.  His  lucid  and  simple 
exposition  had  very  well  served  to  introduce  an  attentive 
stranger  to  the  complex  operations  going  on  around  him, 
but  Raymond  was  not  attentive.  He  failed  to  concen- 
trate and  missed  fundamental  essentials  from  the  desire  to 
examine  more  advanced  and  obviously  interesting  oper- 
ations. 

He  apologised  to  John  Best  before  the  dinner-hour. 

"  This  is  only  a  preliminary  canter,"  he  said.  "  It's  all 
Greek  to  me  and  it  will  take  time  to  get  the  thing  clear. 
It  looks  quite  different  to  me  from  what  it  must  to  you. 
I'll  get  the  general  scheme  into  my  head  first  and  then 
work  out  the  details.  A  man's  mind  can't  make  order  out 
of  this  chaos  in  a  minute." 

He  stood  and  tried  to  appreciate  the  trend  of  events. 


IN  THE  MILL  45 

He  enjoyed  the  adventure,  but  at  present  made  no  effort 
to  do  more  than  enjoy  it.  He  would  start  to  work  later. 
He  began  to  like  the  din  and  the  dusty  light  and  the  glitter 
and  shine  of  polished  metal  and  bright  sliver  eternally 
winding  into  the  cans.  Round  it  hovered  or  sat  the  women 
like  dull  moths.  They  wound  the  stream  of  hemp  or  flax 
away  and  snapped  it  when  a  can  was  full.  There  was  no 
pause  or  slackening,  nothing  but  the  whirl  of  living  hands 
and  arms  and  bodies,  dead  wheels  and  teeth  and  pulleys 
and  pins  operating  on  the  inert  tow.  The  mediators,  ani- 
mate and  inanimate,  laboured  together  for  its  manufac- 
ture; while  the  masses  of  mingled  wood  and  steel,  leather 
and  brass  and  iron,  moved  in  controlled  obedience  to  the 
giant  forces  liberated  from  steam  and  water  that  drove  all. 
The  selfsame  power,  gleaned  from  sunshine  and  moisture 
and  sublimated  to  human  flesh  and  blood  through  bread, 
plied  in  the  fingers  and  muscles  and  countless,  complex 
mental  directions  of  the  men  and  women  who  controlled. 
From  sun-light  and  air,  earth  and  water  had  also  sprung 
the  fields  of  hemp  and  flax  in  far-off  lands  and  yielded  up 
their  loveliness  to  foreign  scutchers.  The  dried  death  of 
countless  beautiful  herbs  now  represented  the  textile  fabric 
on  which  all  this  immense  energy  was  applied. 

Thus  far,  along  an  obvious  line  of  thought,  Raymond's 
reflections  took  him,  but  there  his  slight  mental  effort 
ended,  and  even  this  much  tired  him.  The  time  for  dinner 
came ;  Mr.  Best  now  turned  certain  hand-wheels  and  moved 
certain  levers.  They  shut  off  the  power  and  gradually  the 
din  lessened,  the  pulsing  and  throbbing  slowed  until  the 
whole  great  complexity  came  to  a  stand-still.  The  drone 
of  the  overhead  wheels  ceased,  the  crash  of  the  draw-heads 
stopped.  A  startling  silence  seemed  to  grow  out  of  the 
noise  and  quell  it,  while  a  new  activity  manifested  itself 
among  the  workers.  As  a  bell  rang  they  were  changed  in 
a  twinkling  and,  amid  chatter  and  laughter,  like  breaking 
chrysalids,  they  flung  off  their  basset  aprons  and  dun  over- 
alls, to  emerge  in  brighter  colours.  Blouses  of  pink  and 


46  THE  SPINNERS 

blue  and  red  flashed  out,  straw  hats  and  sun-bonnets  ap- 
peared, and  all  streamed  away  like  magic  to  their  neigh- 
bouring houses.  It  was  as  though  its  soul  had  passed 
and  left  a  dead  mill  behind  it. 

Raymond,  released  for  a  moment  from  the  attentions  of 
the  foreman,  strolled  among  the  machines  of  the  minders 
and  spinners.  Then  his  eyes  were  held  by  an  intimate  and 
personal  circumstance  that  linked  these  women  to  this 
place.  He  found  that  on  the  whitewashed  walls  beside 
their  working  corners,  the  girls  had  impressed  themselves 
—  their  names,  their  interests,  their  hopes.  With  little 
picture  galleries  were  the  walls  brightened,  and  with  senti- 
ments and  ideas.  The  names  of  the  workers  were  printed 
up  in  old  stamps  —  green  and  pink  —  and  beside  them 
one  might  read,  in  verses,  or  photographs,  or  pictures 
taken  from  the  journals,  something  of  the  history,  taste 
and  personal  life  of  those  who  set  them  there.  Serious 
girls  had  written  favourite  hymns  beside  their  working 
places;  the  flippant  scribbled  jokes  and  riddles;  the  senti- 
mental copied  love  songs  that  ran  to  many  verses.  Often 
the  photograph  of  a  maiden's  lover  accompanied  them,  and 
there  were  also  portraits  of  mothers  and  sisters,  babies 
and  brothers.  Some  of  the  girls  had  hung  up  fashion- 
plates  and  decorated  their  workshop  with  ugly  and  mean 
designs  for  clothing  that  they  would  never  wear. 

Raymond  found  that  picture  postcards  were  a  great 
feature  of  these  galleries,  and  they  contained  also,  of 
course,  many  private  jests  and  allusions  lost  upon  the 
visitor.  Character  was  revealed  in  the  collections ;  for 
the  most  part  they  showed  desire  for  joy,  and  aspiration 
to  deck  the  working-place  with  objects  and  words  that 
should  breed  happy  thoughts  and  draw  the  mind  where  its 
treasure  harboured.  Each  heart  it  seemed  was  holding, 
or  seeking,  a  romance ;  each  heart  was  settled  about  some 
stalwart  figure  presented  in  the  picture  gallery,  or  still 
finding  temporary  substance  for  dreams  in  love  poetry,  in 
representations  of  happy  lovers  at  stiles,  in  partings  of 


IN  THE  MILL  47 

soldier  and  sailor  lads  from  their  sweethearts.  Beside 
some  of  the  old  workers  the  walls  were  blank.  They  had 
nothing  left  to  set  down,  or  hang  up. 

Raymond  was  arrested  by  a  little  rhyme  round  which 
a  black  border  had  been  pasted.  It  was  original : 

"I  am  coiling,  coiling,  coiling 

Into  the  can, 

And  thinking,  thinking,  thinking, 
Of  my  dear  man. 

"He  is  toiling,  toiling,  toiling 

Out  on  the  sea, 

And  thinking,  thinking,  thinking 
Only  of  me. 

"F.  H." 

Mr.  Best  joined  Ironsyde. 

"  These  walls !  "  he  said.  "  It's  about  time  we  had  a 
coat  of  whitewash.  Mister  Daniel  thinks  so  too." 

"  Why  —  good  lord  —  this  is  the  most  interesting  part 
of  the  whole  show.  This  is  alive !  Who's  F.  H.  ?  " 

"  The  girls  will  keep  that.  They  like  it,  though  I  tell 
them  it  would  be  better  rubbed  out.  Poor  Flossy  Hackett 
wrote  that.  She  was  going  to  marry  a  sailorman,  but  he 
changed  his  mind,  and  she  broke  her  heart  and  drowned 
herself  —  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"  The  damned  rascal.     I  hope  he  got  what  he  deserved." 

Mr.  Best  allowed  his  mind  to  peep  from  the  shell  that 
usually  concealed  it. 

"  If  he  did,  he  was  one  man  in  a  thousand.  He  married 
a  Weymouth  woman  and  Flossy  went  into  the  river  —  in 
the  deep  pool  beyond  the  works.  A  clever  sort  of  girl, 
but  a  dreamer  you  might  say." 

"  I'd  like  to  have  had  the  handling  of  that  devil !  " 

"  You  never  know.  She  may  have  had  what's  better 
than  a  wedding  ring  —  in  happy  dreams.  Reality's  not 
the  best  of  life.  People  do  change  their  minds.  He  was 
honest  and  all  that.  Only  he  found  somebody  else  he  liked 
better." 

At  this  moment  Daniel  Ironsyde  came  into  the  works, 


48  THE  SPINNERS 

and  while  John  Best  hastened  to  him,  Raymond  pursued 
his  amusement  and  studied  the  wall  by  the  spinning  frame 
where  Sabina  Dinnett  worked.  He  found  a  photograph 
of  her  mother  and  a  quotation  from  Shakespeare  torn  off 
a  calendar  for  the  date  of  August  the  third.  He  guessed 
that  might  be  Sabina's  birthday.  The  quotation  ran :  — 

"To  thine  own  self  be  true; 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man." 

There  was  no  male  in  Sabina's  picture  gallery  —  indeed, 
no  other  picture  but  that  of  a  girl  —  her  fellow  spinner, 
Nancy  Buckler. 

His   brother   approached  Raymond. 

"  You've  made  a  start,  Ray?  " 

"  Rather.  It's  jolly  interesting.  Best  is  wonderful, 
but  he  can't  fathom  my  ignorance  yet." 

"  It's  all  very  simple  and  straightforward.  Do  you 
like  your  office?  " 

"  Yes,"  declared  the  younger.  "  Couldn't  beat  it. 
When  I  want  something  to  do,  I  can  fling  a  line  out  of  the 
window  and  fish  in  the  river." 

"  You  have  plenty  to  do  besides  fish  out  of  the  window  I 
should  hope.  Let  us  lunch.  I'm  stopping  here  this  after- 
noon. Aunt  Jenny  wanted  to  know  whether  you'd  come 
to  Bridport  to  dinner  on  Sunday." 

Daniel  was  entirely  friendly  now  and  he  designed  — 
if  the  future  should  justify  the  step  —  to  take  Ray- 
mond into  partnership.  But  only  in  the  event  of  very 
material  changes  in  his  brother's  life  would  he  do  so. 
Their  aunt  felt  sanguine  that  Raymond  must  soon  recog- 
nise his  responsibilities,  settle  to  the  business  of  justifying 
his  existence  and  put  away  childish  things ;  Daniel  was 
less  hopeful,  but  trusted  that  she  might  be  right.  Her 
imagination  worked  for  Raymond  and  warned  her  nephew 
not  to  be  too  exacting  at  first.  She  pointed  out  that  it 
was  very  improbable  Daniel's  brother  would  become  a 


IN  THE  MILL  *9 

model  in  a  moment,  or  settle  down  to  the  business  of  fixed 
hours  and  clerical  work  without  a  few  lapses  from  the  nar- 
row and  arduous  path.  So  the  elder  was  prepared  to  see 
his  brother  kick  against  the  pricks  and  even  warned  John 
Best  that  it  might  be  so.  Brief  acquaintance  with  Ray- 
mond had  already  convinced  the  foreman  of  this  probabil- 
ity, and  he  found  himself  liking  Daniel's  brother  from 
the  first.  The  dangers,  however,  were  not  hid  from  him; 
but  while  he  perceived  the  youthful  instability  of  the  new- 
comer and  his  impatience  of  detail,  he  presently  discovered 
an  interest  in  mechanical  contrivances,  a  spark  of  orig- 
inality, and  a  feeling  for  new  things  that  might  lead  to 
results,  if  only  the  necessary  application  were  forthcom- 
ing and  the  vital  interest  aroused. 

Mr.  Best  had  a  simple  formula. 

"  The  successful  spinner,"  he  often  remarked,  "  is  the 
man  who  can  turn  out  the  best  yarn  from  a  given  sample 
of  the  raw.  Hand  identical  stuff  to  ten  manufacturers 
and  you'll  soon  see  where  the  best  yarn  comes  from." 

He  knew  of  better  yarns  than  came  from  the  Ironsyde 
mill,  and  regretted  the  fact.  That  a  time  might  arrive 
when  Raymond  would  see  with  him  seemed  exceedingly 
improbable;  yet  he  felt  the  dim  possibility  by  occasional 
flashes  in  the  young  man,  and  it  was  a  quality  of  Mr. 
Best's  mind  to  be  hopeful  and  credit  other  men  with  his 
own  aspirations,  if  any  excuse  existed  for  so  doing. 


CHAPTER  VI 


ON  a  Saturday  in  August,  Sarah  Northover,  one  of  those 
who  minded  the  '  spreader '  at  Bridetown  Mill,  came  to 
see  her  aunt  —  the  mistress  of  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  in  Bar- 
rack Street,  Bridport. 

She  had  walked  three  miles  through  the  hot  and  dusty 
lanes  and  found  the  shady  streets  of  Bridport  cool  by 
comparison,  but  there  was  work  for  her  at  '  The  Seven 
Stars,'  and  Mrs.  Northover  proved  very  busy.  A  holiday 
party  of  five-and-twenty  guests  was  arriving  at  five  o'clock 
for  tea,  and  Sarah,  perceiving  that  her  own  tea  would  be 
a  matter  for  the  future,  lent  her  aunt  a  hand. 

Her  tea  gardens  and  pleasure,  grounds  were  the  pride 
of  Nelly  Northover's  heart.  Three  quarters  of  an  acre 
extended  here  behind  the  inn,  and  she  had  erected  swings 
for  the  children  and  laid  a  croquet  lawn  for  those  who  en- 
joyed that  pastime.  Lawn  tennis  she  would  not  permit, 
out  of  respect  for  her  herbaceous  border  which  surrounded 
the  place  of  entertainment.  At  one  corner  was  a  large 
summer-house  in  which  her  famous  teas  were  generally 
taken.  The  charge  was  one  shilling,  and  being  of  gener- 
ous disposition,  Mrs.  Northover  provided  for  that  figure 
a  handsome  meal. 

She  was  a  large,  high-bosomed  woman,  powerfully  built, 
and  inclined  to  stoutness.  Her  complexion  was  sanguine, 
and  her  prominent  eyes  were  very  blue.  Of  a  fair-minded 
and  honest  spirit,  she  suffered  from  an  excitable  temper 
and  rather  sharp  tongue.  But  her  moods  were  under- 
stood by  her  staff,  and  if  her  emotional  quality  did  in- 
justice, an  innate  sense  of  what  was  reasonable  ultimately 
righted  the  wrong. 

Sarah  helped  Job  Legg  and  others  to  prepare  for  the 

50 


'THE  SEVEN  STARS'  51 

coming  party,  while  Mrs.  Northover  roamed  the  herba- 
ceous border  and  cut  flowers  to  decorate  the  table. 
While  she  pursued  this  work  there  bustled  in  Richard 
Gurd  from  '  The  Tiger.'  He  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves  and 
evidently  pushed  for  time. 

"  Wonders  never  cease,"  said  Nelly,  smiling  upon  him. 
"  It's  a  month  of  Sundays  since  you  was  in  my  gardens. 
I'll  lay  you've  come  for  some  flowers  for  your  dining 
table." 

Reciprocity  was  practised  between  these  best  of  friends, 
and  while  Mr.  Gurd  often  sent  customers  to  Mrs.  North- 
over,  since  tea  parties  were  not  a  branch  of  business  he 
cared  about,  she  returned  his  good  service  with  gifts  from 
the  herbaceous  border  and  free  permission  to  use  her  spa- 
cious inn  yard  and  stables. 

"  I'm  always  coming  to  have  a  look  round  at  your  won- 
derful flower-bed,"  said  Richard,  "  and  some  Sunday 
morning,  during  church  hours,  I  will  do  so ;  but  you  know 
how  busy  we  all  are  in  August.  And  I  don't  want  no 
flowers ;  but  I  want  the  run  of  your  four-stall  stable. 
There's  a  ;  beano  '  coming  over  from  Lyme  and  I'm  full 
up  already." 

"  Never  no  need  to  ask,"  she  answered.  "  I'll  tell  Job 
to  set  a  man  on  to  it." 

He  thanked  her  very  heartily  and  she  gave  him  a  rose. 
Then  he  admired  the  grass,  knowing  that  she  prided  her- 
self upon  it. 

"  Never  seen  such  grass  anywhere  else  in  Bridport,"  he 
assured  her,.  "  There's  lots  try  to  grow  grass  like  yours ; 
but  none  can  come  near  this." 

"  'Tis  Job's  work,"  she  told  him.  "  He's  a  Northerner 
and  had  the  charge  of  a  bowling-green  at  his  uncle's  pub- 
lic; and  what  he  don't  know  about  grass  ain't  worth 
knowing." 

"  He's  a  sheet-anchor,  that  man,"  confessed  Richard ; 
"  a  sheet-anchor  and  a  tower  of  strength,  as  you  might 
say." 


52  THE  SPINNERS 

"  I  don't  deny  it,"  admitted  Nelly.  "  Sometimes,  in  a 
calm  moment,  I  run  my  mind  over  Job  Legg,  and  I'm  al- 
most ashamed  to  think  how  much  I  owe  him." 

"  It  ain't  all  one  way,  however.  He's  got  a  snug  place, 
and  no  potman  in  Dorset  draws  more  money,  though 
there's  some  who  draws  more  beer." 

"  There's  no  potman  in  Dorset  with  his  head,"  she  an- 
swered. "  He's  got  a  brain  and  it's  very  seldom  indeed 
you  find  such  an  honest  chap  with  such  a  lot  of  intellects. 
The  clever  ones  are  mostly  the  downy  ones ;  but  Job's 
single  thought  is  the  welfare  of  the  house,  and  he  pushes 
honesty  to  extremes." 

"  If  you  can  say  that,  he  must  be  a  wonder,  certainly, 
for  none  knows  what  honesty  means  better  than  you," 
said  Mr.  Gurd.  He  had  put  Nelly's  rose  into  his  coat. 

"  He's  more  than  a  potman,  chiefly  along  of  being  such 
a  good  friend  to  my  late  husband.  Almost  the  last  sen- 
sible thing  my  poor  dear  said  to  me  before  he  died  was 
never  to  get  rid  of  Job.  And  no  doubt  I  never  shall. 
I'm  going  to  put  up  his  money  at  Michaelmas." 

"  Well,  don't  make  the  man  a  god,  and  don't  you  spoil 
him.  Job's  a  very  fine  chap  and  can  carry  corn  as  well 
as  most  of  'em  —  in  fact  far  better ;  but  a  man  is  terrible 
quick  to  trade  on  the  good  opinion  of  his  fellow  man,  and 
if  you  let  him  imagine  you  can't  do  without  him,  you  may 
put  false  and  fantastic  ideas  into  his  head." 

"  I'm  not  at  all  sure  if  I  could  do  without  him,"  she  an- 
swered, "  though,  even  if  he  knew  it,  he's  far  too  fine  a 
character  to  take  advantage.  A  most  modest  creature 
and  undervalued  accordingly." 

Then  a  boy  ran  in  for  Richard  and  he  hastened  away, 
while  Nelly  took  a  sheaf  of  flowers  to  the  summer-house 
and  made  the  table  bright  with  them. 

She  praised  her  niece's  activities. 

"  'Tis  a  shame  to  ring  you  in  on  your  half-holiday," 
she  said.  "  But  you're  one  of  the  sensible  sort,  and  you 
won't  regret  being  a  good  girl  to  me  in  the  time  to  come." 


'THE  SEVEN  STARS'  53 

Then  she  turned  to  Job. 

"  Gurd's  got  a  char-a-bank  and  a  party  on  the  way 
from  Lyme,  and  he's  full  up  and  wants  the  four-horse 
stable,"  she  told  him.  It  was  part  of  Job's  genius  never 
to  be  put  about,  or  driven  from  placidity  by  anything. 

"  Then  there's  no  time  to  lose,"  he  said.  "  We're  ready 
here,  and  now  if  Sarah  will  lend  a  hand  at  the  table  over 
there  in  the  shade  for  the  party  of  six " 

"Lord!     I'd  forgotten  them." 

"  I  hadn't,"  he  answered,  "  They're  cutting  in  the 
kitchen  now  and  the  party's  due  at  four.  So  you'll  have 
them  very  near  off  your  hands  before  the  big  lot  comes. 
I'll  see  to  the  stable  and  get  in  a  bit  of  fresh  straw  and 
shake  down  some  hay.  Then  I'll  take  the  bar  and  let 
Miss  Denman  come  to  help  with  the  tea." 

He  went  his  way  and  Sarah  sat  down  a  moment  while 
her  aunt  arranged  the  flowers. 

"  There's  no  tea-tables  like  yours,"  she  said. 

"  I  pride  myself  on  'em.  A  lot  goes  to  a  tea  beside  the 
good  food,  in  my  opinion.  Some  human  pigs  don't  notice 
my  touches  and  only  want  to  stuff;  but  the  bettermost 
have  an  eye  for  everything  sweet  and  clean  about  'em. 
Such  nicer  characters  don't  like  poultry  messing  round 
and  common  things  in  sight  while  they  eat  and  drink. 
I  know  what  I  feel  myself  about  a  clean  cloth  and  a  bunch 
of  fine  flowers  on  the  table,  and  many  people  are  quite  as 
particular  as  me.  I  train  the  girls  up  to  take  a  pride  in 
such  things,  and  now  and  again  a  visitor  will  thank  me 
for  it." 

"  I  could  have  brought  a  bunch  of  flowers  from  our 
little  garden,"  said  Sarah. 

"  It  would  be  coals  to  Newcastle,  my  dear.  We  make 
a  feature  of  'em.  Job  Legg  understands  the  ways  of  'em, 
and  you  see  the  result.  You  can  pick  all  day  from  my 
herbaceous  border  and  not  miss  what  you  take." 

"  Nobody  grows  sweet  peas  like  yours." 

"  Job  again.     He's  mastered  the  sweet  pea  in  a  manner 


54  THE  SPINNERS 

given  to  few.  He'll  bring  out  four  on  a  stalk,  and  think 
nothing  of  it." 

"  Mister  Best,  our  foreman,  is  wonderful  in  a  garden, 
too,"  answered  Sarah.  "  And  a  great  fruit  grower  also." 

"  That  reminds  me.  I've  got  a  fine  dish  of  greengages 
for  this  party.  In  the  season  I  fling  in  a  bit  of  fruit 
sometimes.  It  always  comes  as  a  pleasant  surprise  to  tea 
people  that  they  ain't  called  to  pay  extra  for  fruit." 

She  went  her  way  and  Sarah  turned  to  a  lesser  enter- 
tainment under  preparation  in  a  shady  corner  of  the  gar- 
den. 

A  girl  of  the  house  was  already  busy  there,  and  the 
guests  had  arrived.  They  were  hot  and  thirsty.  Some 
sat  on  the  grass  and  fanned  themselves.  A  young  man 
did  juggling  feats  with  the  croquet  balls  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  two  young  women. 

Not  until  half-past  six  came  any  pause,  but  after  that 
hour  the  tea  drinkers  thinned  off ;  the  big  party  had  come 
and  gone;  the  smaller  groups  were  all  attended  to  and 
tea  was  served  in  Mrs.  Northover's  private  sitting-room 
behind  the  bar  for  herself,  Sarah  and  the  barmaid.  Being 
refreshed  and  rested,  Mrs.  Northover  turned  to  the  affairs 
of  her  niece.  At  the  same  moment  Mr.  Legg  came  in. 

"  Sit  down  and  have  some  tea,"  said  Mrs.  Northover. 

"  Fve  took  a  hasty  cup,"  he  answered,  "  but  could  very 
well  do  with  another." 

"And  how's  Mister  Roberts,  Sarah?"  asked  her 
aunt. 

"  Fine.  He's  playing  in  a  cricket  match  to-day  — 
Bridetown  against  Chilcombe.  They've  asked  him  to  play 
for  Bridport  since  Mister  Raymond  saw  him  bowl.  He's 
very  pleased  about  it." 

"  Teetotal,  isn't  he?  "  asked  Mr.  Job. 

"  Yes,  Mister  Legg.  Nick  have  never  once  touched  a 
drop  in  all  his  life  and  never  means  to." 

"  A  pity  there  ain't  more  of  the  same  way  of  thinking," 
said  Mrs.  Northover.  "  And  I  say  that,  though  a  pub- 


'  THE  SEVEN  STARS  '  55 

lican  and  the  wife  of  a  publican;  and  so  do  you,  don't 
you,  Job?  " 

"  Most  steadfast,"  he  replied.  "  When  I  took  on  bar- 
man as  a  profession,  I  never  lifted  pot  or  glass  again  to 
my  own  lips,  and  have  stood  between  many  a  young  man 
and  the  last  half  pint.  I  tell  you  this  to  your  face,  Missis 
Northover.  Not  an  hour  ago  I  was  at  '  The  Tiger,'  to 
let  Richard  Gurd  know  the  stable  was  ready,  and  in  the 
private  bar  there  were  six  young  men,  all  drinking  for 
the  pleasure  of  drinking.  If  the  younger  generation  only 
lapped  when  'twas  thirsty,  half  the  drinking-places  would 
shut,  and  there  wouldn't  be  no  more  brewers  in  the  peer- 
age." 

He  shook  his  head  and  drank  his  tea. 

Mrs.  Northover  changed  the  subject. 

"  How's  the  works  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Do  the  people  like 
the  new  master?  " 

"  Just  the  same  •. —  same  hours,  same  money  —  every- 
thing. And  Mister  Daniel's  brother,  Mister  Raymond's, 
come  to  it  to  learn  the  business.  He  is  a  cure !  " 

"  He's  over  there  now,"  said  Job,  waving  his  hand  in  the 
direction  of  *  The  Tiger.'  "  Drinking  port  wine  he  is 
with  that  young  sport,  Motyer,  and  others  like  him.  I 
don't  like  Motyer's  face.  He's  a  shifty  chap,  and  a 
thorn  in  his  family's  side  by  all  accounts.  But  Mister 
Raymond  have  a  very  open  countenance  and  ought  to  have 
a  good  heart." 

"  What  do  you  mean  when  you  say  he's  a  '  cure,' 
Sarah?  "  asked  her  aunt. 

"  He's  that  friendly  with  us  girls,"  she  answered. 
"  He's  supposed  to  be  learning  all  there  is  to  spinning, 
but  he  plays  about  half  his  time  and  you  can't  help  laugh- 
ing. He's  so  friendly  as  if  he  was  one  of  us ;  but  Sabina 
Dinnett  is  his  pet.  Wants  to  make  her  smoke  cigarettes ! 
But  there's  no  harm  to  him  if  you  understand." 

"  There's  always  harm  to  a  chap  that  plays  about  and 
don't  look  after  his  own  business,"  declared  Job.  "  I 


56  THE  SPINNERS 

understand  his  brother's  been  very  proper  about  him,  and 
now  it's  up  to  him ;  and  he  ain't  at  the  Mill  to  offer  the 
girls  cigarettes." 

"  He's  got  his  own  room  and  Mister  Best  wishes  he'd 
bide  in  it,"  explained  Sarah,  "  but  he  says  he  must  learn, 
and  so  he's  always  wandering  around.  But  everybody 
likes  him,  except  Levi  Baggs.  He  don't  like  anybody. 
He'd  like  to  draw  us  all  over  his  hackling  frames  if  he 
could." 

They  chattered  awhile,  then  worked  again;  but  Sarah 
stayed  to  supper,  and  it  was  not  until  half-past  ten  o'clock 
that  she  started  for  home. 

Another  Bridetown  girl  —  Alice  Chick,  the  spinner  — 
had  been  spending  her  half  holiday  in  Bridport.  Now 
she  met  Sarah,  by  appointment,  at  the  top  of  South  Street 
and  the  two  returned  together. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A    WALK 

THE  Carding  Machine  was  a  squat  and  noisy  monster. 
Mr.  Best  confessed  that  it  had  put  him  in  mind  of  a  pass- 
age from  Holy  Writ,  for  it  seemed  to  be  all  eyes,  behind 
and  before.  The  eyes  were  wheels,  and  beneath,  the  mass 
of  the  carder  opened  its  mouth  —  a  thin  and  hungry 
slit  into  which  wound  an  endless  band.  Spread  upon  this 
leathern  roller  was  the  hemp  tow  —  that  mass  of  short 
material  which  Levi  Baggs,  the  hackler,  pruned  away 
from  his  long  stricks.  As  for  the  minder,  Sally  Groves, 
she  seemed  built  and  born  to  tend  a  Carding  Machine. 
She  moved  with  dignity  despite  her  great  size,  and  al- 
though covered  in  tow  dust  from  head  to  foot  and  pow- 
dered with  a  layer  of  pale  amber  fluff,  she  stood  as  well  as 
another  for  the  solemnity  of  toil,  laboured  steadfastly, 
was  neither  elated,  nor  cast  down,  and  presented  to 
younger  women  a  spectacle  of  skill,  resolution  and  good 
sense.  The  great  woman  ennobled  her  work ;  through  the 
dust  and  din,  with  placid  and  amiable  features,  she  peered, 
and  ceased  not  hour  after  hour,  to  spread  the  tow  truly 
and  evenly  upon  the  rolling  board.  One  of  less  experi- 
ence might  have  needed  to  weigh  her  material,  but  Sally 
never  weighed;  by  long  practice  and  good  judgment,  she 
produced  sliver  of  even  texture. 

The  carder  panted,  crashed  and  shook  with  its  energies. 
It  glimmered  all  over  with  the  bright,  hairy  gossamer  of 
the  tow,  which  wound  thinly  through  systems  of  fast  and 
slow  wheels.  Between  them  the  material  was  lashed  and 
pricked,  divided  and  sub-divided,  torn  and  lacerated  by 
thousands  of  pins,  that  separated  strand  from  strand  and 

57 


58  THE  SPINNERS 

shook  the  stuff  to  its  integral  fibres  before  building  it  up 
again.  Despite  the  thunder  and  the  suggestion  of  im- 
mense forces  exerted  upon  the  frail  material,  utmost  deli- 
cacy marked  the  operations  of  the  card.  Any  real  strain 
must  have  torn  to  atoms  the  fine  amber  coils  in  which  it 
ejected  the  strips  of  shining  sliver.  Enormous  waste 
marked  the  operation.  Beneath  the  machine  rose  mounds 
of  dust  and  dirt,  and  fluff,  light  as  thistledown;  while  as 
much  was  sucked  away  into  the  air  by  the  exhaust  above. 

In  a  lion-coloured  overall  and  under  a  hat  tied  beneath 
her  chin  with  a  yellow  handkerchief,  Sally  Groves  pursued 
her  task.  Then  came  to  her  Sabina  Dinnett  and,  ceasing 
not  to  spread  her  tow  the  while,  Sally  spoke  serious  words. 

"  I  asked  Nancy  Buckler  to  send  you  along  when  your 
machine  stopped  a  minute.  You  won't  be  vexed  with  me 
if  I  say  something,  will  you?  " 

"  Vexed  with  you,  Sally  ?  Who  ever  was  vexed  with 
you?" 

"  I'm  old  enough  to  be  your  mother,  and  'tis  her  work 
if  anybody's  to  speak  to  you,"  explained  Sally ;  "  but 
she's  not  here,  and  she  don't  see  what  I  can't  help  seeing." 

"  What  have  you  seen  then?  " 

"  I've  seen  a  very  good-looking  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Raymond  Ironsyde  wasting  a  deuce  of  a  lot  of  his  time 
by  your  spinning  frame ;  and  wasting  your  time,  too." 

Sabina  changed  colour. 

"  Fancy  you  saying  that !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  He's  got 
to  learn  the  business  —  the  practical  side,  Sally.  And 
he  wants  to  master  it  carefully  and  grasp  the  whole  thing." 

Miss  Groves  smiled. 

"  Ah.  He  didn't  take  long  mastering  the  carder,"  she 
said.  "  Just  two  minutes  was  all  he  gave  me,  and  I  don't 
think  he  was  very  long  at  the  drawing  heads  neither;  and 
I  ain't  heard  Sarah  Northover  say  he  spent  much  of  his 
time  at  the  spreader.  It  all  depends  on  the  minder 
whether  Mister  Raymond  wants  to  know  much  about  the 
work!" 


A  WALK  59 

"  But  the  spinning  is  the  hardest  to  understand,  Sally." 

"  Granted,  but  he  don't  ask  many  questions  of  Alice 
Chick  or  Nancy  Buckler,  do  he?  I'm  not  blaming  him, 
Lord  knows,  nor  yet  you,  but  for  friendship  I'm  whisper- 
ing to  you  to  be  sensible.  He's  a  very  kind-hearted  young 
gentleman,  and  if  he  had  a  memory  as  big  as  his  promises, 
he'd  soon  ruin  himself.  But,  like  a  lot  of  other  nice  chaps 
full  of  generous  ideas,  he  forgets  'em  when  the  accident 
that  woke  'em  is  out  of  his  mind.  And  all  I  say,  Sabina, 
is  to  be  careful.  He  may  be  as  good  as  gold,  and  I  dare 
say  he  is,  but  he's  gone  on  you  —  head  overheels  —  he 
can't  hide  it.  He  don't  even  try  to.  And  he's  a  gentle- 
man and  you're  a  spinner.  So  don't  you  be  silly,  and 
don't  think  the  worse  of  me  for  speaking." 

Sabina  entertained  the  opinions  concerning  middle-age 
common  to  youth,  but  she  was  fond  of  Sally  and  set  her 
heart  at  rest. 

"  You  needn't  be  frightened,"  she  answered.  "  He's  a 
gentleman,  as  you  say;  and  you  know  I'm  not  the  sort  to 
be  a  fool.  I  can't  help  him  coming;  and  I  can't  be  rude 
to  the  young  man.  For  that  matter  I  wouldn't.  I  won't 
forget  what  you've  said  all  the  same." 

She  hurried  away  and  started  her  machine;  but  while 
her  mind  concentrated  on  spinning,  some  subconscious 
instincts  worked  at  another  matter  and  she  found  that 
Sally  had  cast  a  cloud  upon  a  coming  event  which  prom- 
ised nothing  but  sunshine. 

She  had  agreed  to  go  for  a  walk  with  Raymond  Iron- 
syde  on  the  following  Sunday,  and  he  had  named  their 
meeting-place :  a  bridge  that  crossed  the  Bride  in  the  vale 
two  miles  from  the  village.  She  meant  to  go,  for  the  un- 
derstanding between  her  and  Raymond  had  advanced  far 
beyond  any  point  dreamed  of  by  Sally  Groves.  Sabina's 
mind  was  in  fact  exceedingly  full  of  Raymond,  and  his 
mind  was  full  of  her.  Temperament  had  conspired  to 
this  state  of  things,  for  while  the  youth  found  himself  in 
love  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  pursued  the  quest 


60  THE  SPINNERS 

with  that  ardour  and  enthusiasm  until  now  reserved  for 
sport,  Sabina,  who  had  otherwise  been  much  more  cau- 
tious, was  not  only  in  love,  but  actually  felt  that  shadowy 
ambitions  from  the  past  began  to  promise  realisation. 
She  was  not  vain,  but  she  knew  herself  a  finer  thing  in  mind 
and  body  than  most  of  the  girls  with  whom  she  worked. 
She  had  read  a  great  deal  and  learned  much  from  Mr. 
Churchouse,  who  delighted  to  teach  her,  and  from  Mr. 
Best,  with  whom  she  was  a  prime  favourite.  She  had  re- 
fused several  offers  of  marriage  and  preserved  a  steady 
determination  not  to  wed  until  there  came  a  man  who 
could  lift  her  above  work  and  give  her  a  home  that  would 
embrace  comfort  and  leisure.  She  waited,  confident  that 
this  would  happen,  for  she  knew  that  she  could  charm 
men.  As  yet  none  had  come  who  awakened  any  emotion 
of  love  in  Sabina ;  and  she  told  herself  that  real  love  might 
alter  her  values  and  send  her  to  a  poor  man's  home  after 
all.  If  that  happened,  she  was  willing ;  but  she  thought  it 
improbable ;  because,  in  her  experience,  poor  men  were 
ignorant,  and  she  felt  very  sure  no  ignorant  man  would 
ever  make  her  love  him. 

Then  came  into  her  life  one  very  much  beyond  her 
dreams,  and  from  an  attitude  of  utmost  caution  before  a 
physical  beauty  that  fascinated  her,  she  woke  into  tre- 
mendous excitation  of  mind  at  the  discovery  that  he,  too, 
was  interested.  To  her  it  seemed  that  he  had  plenty  of 
brains.  His  ideas  were  human  and  beautiful.  He  de- 
clared the  conditions  of  the  workers  to  be  not  sufficiently 
considered.  He  was  full  of  nebulous  theories  for  the 
amelioration  of  such  conditions.  The  spectacle  of  women 
working  for  a  living  caused  Raymond  both  uneasi- 
ness and  indignation.  To  Sabina,  it  seemed  that  he  was 
a  chivalric  knight  of  romance  —  a  being  from  a  fairy 
story.  She  had  heard  of  such  men,  but  never  met  with 
one  outside  a  novel.  She  glorified  Raymond  into  some- 
thing altogether  sublime  —  as  soon  as  she  found  that  he 


A  WALK  61 

liked  her.  He  filled  her  head,  and  while  her  common-sense 
vainly  tried  to  talk  as  Sally  Groves  had  talked,  each  meet- 
ing with  the  young  man  threw  her  back  upon  the  tre- 
mendous fact  that  he  was  deeply  interested  in  her  and  did 
not  care  who  knew  it.  Common-sense  could  not  modify 
that;  nor  would  she  listen  to  common-sense,  when  it  sug- 
gested that  Raymond's  record  was  uninspiring,  and 
pointed  to  no  great  difference  between  him  and  other 
young  men.  She  told  herself  that  he  was  misunderstood ; 
she  whispered  to  herself  that  she  understood  him.  It 
must  be  so,  for  he  had  declared  it.  He  had  said  that  he 
was  an  idealist.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  did  not  himself 
know  the  meaning  of  the  word  half  as  well  as  Sabina. 

He  filled  her  thoughts,  and  believing  him  to  be  honour- 
able, in  the  everyday  acceptation  of  the  word,  she  knew 
she  was  safe  and  need  not  fear  him.  This  fact  added  to 
the  joy  and  excitement  of  a  situation  that  was  merely 
thrilling,  not  difficult.  For  she  had  to  be  receptive  only, 
and  that  was  easy :  the  vital  matter  rested  with  him.  She 
did  not  do  anything  to  encourage  him,  or  take  any  step 
that  her  friends  could  call  "  forward."  She  just  left  it 
to  him  and  knew  not  how  far  he  meant  to  go,  yet  felt,  in 
sanguine  moments,  that  he  would  go  all  the  way,  sooner 
or  later,  and  offer  to  marry  her.  Her  friends  declared 
it  would  be  so.  They  were  mightily  interested,  but  not 
jealous,  for  the  girls  recognised  Sabina's  advantages. 

When,  therefore,  he  asked  her  to  take  a  walk  on  a  cer- 
tain Sunday  afternoon,  she  agreed  to  do  so.  There  was 
no  plotting  or  planning  about  it.  He  named  a  familiar 
place  of  meeting  and  proposed  to  go  thence  to  the  cliffs 
—  a  ramble  that  might  bring  them  face  to  face  with  a 
dozen  people  who  knew  them.  She  felt  the  happier  for 
that.  Nor  could  Sally  Groves  and  her  warning  cast  her 
down  for  long.  The  hint  that  Raymond  was  a  gentleman 
and  Sabina  a  spinner  touched  a  point  in  their  friendship 
long  past.  The  girl  knew  that  well  enough ;  but  she  also 


62  THE  SPINNERS 

knew  what  Sally  did  not,  and  told  herself  that  Raymond 
was  a  great  deal  more  than  a  gentleman,  just  as  she  — 
Sabina  —  was  something  more  than  a  spinner.  That, 
however,  was  the  precious  knowledge  peculiar  to  the  young 
people  themselves.  She  could  not  expect  Sally,  or  any- 
body else,  to  know  it  yet. 

As  for  the  young  man,  life  had  cut  away  from  him  most 
of  his  former  interests  and  amusements.  He  was  keeping 
regular  hours  and  working  steadily.  He  regarded  himself 
as  a  martyr,  yet  could  get  none  to  take  that  view.  To 
him,  then,  came  his  love  affair  as  a  very  present  help  in 
time  of  trouble.  The  emotions  awakened  by  Sabina  were 
real,  and  he  fully  believed  that  she  was  going  to  be  essen- 
tial to  his  life's  happiness  and  completion.  He  knew  noth- 
thing  about  women,  for  his  athletic  pursuits  and  ambi- 
tions to  excel  physically  produced  an  indifference  to  them. 
But  with  the  change  in  his  existence,  and  the  void  thereby 
created,  came  love,  and  he  had  leisure  to  welcome  it.  He 
magnified  Sabina,  and  since  her  intellect  was  as  good  as 
his  own  and  her  education  better,  he  assured  himself  that 
she  was  in  every  respect  superior  to  her  position  and 
worthy  of  any  man's  admiration. 

He  did  not  analyse  his  feelings  or  look  ahead  very  far. 
He  did  not  bother  to  ask  himself  what  he  wanted.  He 
was  only  concerned  to  make  Sabina  *  a  chum,'  as  he  said, 
to  himself.  He  knew  this  to  be  nonsense,  even  while  he 
said  it,  but  in  the  excitement  of  the  quest,  chose  to  ignore 
rational  lines  of  thought. 

They  met  by  the  little  bridge  over  Bride,  then  walked 
southerly  up  a  hill  to  a  hamlet,  and  so  on  to  the  heights. 
Beneath  the  sponge-coloured  cliffs  eastward  swept  the 
grand  scythe  of  Chesil  Bank;  but  an  east  wind  had 
brought  its  garment  of  grey-blue  haze  and  the  extremity 
of  the  Bank,  with  Portland  Bill  beyond,  was  hidden.  The 
cliffs  gave  presently  and  green  slopes  sank  to  the  beaches. 
They  reached  a  place  where,  separated  from  the  sea  by 
great  pebble-ridges,  there  lay  a  little  mere.  Two  swans 


A  WALK  63 

swam  together  upon  it,  and  round  about  the  grey  stone 
banks  were  washed  with  silver  pink,  where  the  thrift  pros- 
pered. 

Sabina  had  not  talked  much,  though  she  proved  a  good 
listener;  but  Raymond  spoke  fitfully,  too,  at  first.  He 
was  new  to  this  sort  of  thing  and  told  her  so. 

"  I  don't  believe  I've  ever  been  for  a  walk  with  a  girl  in 
my  life  before,"  he  said. 

"  I  can't  walk  fast  enough  for  you,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  can ;  you're  a  very  good  walker." 

At  last  he  began  to  tell  her  about  himself,  in  the  usual 
fashion  of  the  male,  who  knows  by  instinct  that  subject 
is  most  interesting  to  both.  He  dwelt  on  his  sporting  tri- 
umphs of  the  past,  and  explained  his  trials  and  tribula- 
tions in  the  present.  He  represented  that  he  was  mewed 
up  like  an  eagle.  He  described  how  the  tragic  call  to 
work  for  a  living  had  sounded  in  his  ear  when  he  antici- 
pated no  such  painful  experience.  Before  this  narrative 
Sabina  affected  a  deeper  sympathy  than  she  felt,  yet 
honestly  perceived  that  to  such  a  man,  his  present  life  of 
regular  hours  must  be  dreary  and  desolate. 

"  It's  terrible  dull  for  you,  I'm  sure,"  she  said. 

"  It  was,"  he  confessed,  "  but  I'm  getting  broken  in,  or 
perhaps  it's  because  you're  so  jolly  friendly.  You're  the 
only  person  I  know  in  the  whole  world  who  has  got  the 
mind  and  imagination  to  see  what  a  frightful  jar  it  was 
for  an  open-air  man  like  me  to  be  dropped  into  this.  Peo- 
ple think  it  is  the  most  unnatural  thing  on  earth  that  I 
should  suddenly  begin  to  work.  But  it's  just  as  unnat- 
ural really  as  if  my  brother  suddenly  began  to  play. 
Even  my  great  friend,  Arthur  Waldron,  talks  rubbish 
about  everybody  having  to  work  sooner  or  later  —  not 
that  he  ever  did.  But  you  were  quick  enough  to  see  in  a 
moment.  You're  tremendously  clever,  really." 

"  I  wish  I  was ;  but  I  saw,  of  course,  that  you  were 
rather  contemptuous  of  it  all." 

"  So  I  was  at  first,"  he  confessed.     "  At  first  I  felt  that 


64  THE  SPINNERS 

it  was  a  woman's  show,  and  that  what  women  can  do  well 
is  no  work  for  men.  But  I  soon  saw  I  was  wrong.  It 
increased  my  respect  for  women  in  a  way.  To  find,  for 
instance,  that  you  could  do  what  you  do  single-handed  and 
make  light  of  it ;  that  was  rather  an  eye-opener.  When- 
ever any  pal  of  mine  talks  twaddle  about  what  women  can't 
do,  I  shall  bring  him  to  see  you  at  work." 

"  I  could  do  something  better  than  spin  if  I  got  the 
chance,"  she  said,  and  he  applauded  the  sentiment  highly. 

"  Of  course  you  could,  and  I'm  glad  you've  got  the 
pluck  to  say  so.  I  knew  that  from  the  first.  You're  a 
lot  too  clever  for  spinning,  really.  You'd  shine  anywhere. 
Let's  sit  here  under  this  thorn  bush.  I  must  get  some 
rabbiting  over  this  scrub.  The  place  swarms  with  them. 
You  don't  mind  if  I  smoke?  " 

They  rested,  and  he  ventured  to  make  a  personal  remark 
after  Sabina  had  taken  off  her  gloves  to  cool  her  hands. 

"  You've  hurt  yourself,"  he  said,  noting  what  seemed  to 
be  an  injury.  But  she  made  light  of  it. 

"  It's  only  a  corn  from  stopping  the  spindles.  Every 
spinner's  hands  are  like  that.  Alice  Chick  has  chilblains 
in  winter,  then  she  gets  a  cruel,  bad  hand." 

The  slight  deformity  made  Raymond  uncomfortable. 
He  could  not  bear  to  think  of  a  woman  suffering  such  a 
stigma  in  her  tender  flesh. 

"  They  ought  to  invent  something  to  prevent  you  being 
hurt,"  he  said,  and  Sabina  laughed. 

"  Why,  there  are  very  few  manual  trades  don't  leave 
their  mark,"  she  answered,  "  and  a  woman's  lucky  to  get 
nothing  worse  than  a  scarred  hand." 

"  Would  it  come  right,"  he  ventured  to  ask,  "  if  you 
gave  up  spinning?  " 

"  Yes,  in  no  time.  There  are  worse  things  happen  to 
you  in  the  mills  than  that  —  and  more  painful.  Some- 
times the  wind  from  the  reels  numbs  your  fingers  till  you 
can't  feel  'em  and  they  go  red,  and  then  blue.  And  there's 
always  grumbling  about  the  temperature,  because  what 


A  WALK  65 

suits  hemp  and  flax  don't  suit  humans.  If  some  clever 
man  could  solve  these  difficulties,  it  would  be  more  com- 
fortable for  us.  Not  that  I'm  grumbling.  Our  mill  is 
about  as  perfect  as  any  mill  can  be,  and  we've  got  the 
blessing  of  living  in  the  country,  too  —  that's  worth  a 
lot." 

"  You're  fond  of  the  country." 

"  Couldn't  live  out  of  it,"  she  said.  "  Thanks  to  Mr. 
Churchouse,  I  know  more  about  things  than  some  girls." 

"  I  should  think  you  did." 

"  He's  very  wise  and  kind  and  lends  me  books." 

"  A  very  nice  old  bird.  I  nearly  went  to  live  with  him 
when  I  came  to  Bridetown.  Sorry  I  didn't,  now." 

She  smiled  and  did  not  pretend  to  miss  the  compliment. 

"  As  to  the  Mill,"  he  went  on ;  "  don't  think  I'm  the  sort 
of  chap  that  just  drifts  and  is  contented  to  let  things  be 
as  they  were  in  the  time  of  his  father  and  grandfather." 

"Wouldn't  you?" 

"  Certainly  not.  No  doubt  it's  safer  and  easier  and  the 
line  of  least  resistance  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  But 
when  I've  once  mastered  the  business,  you'll  see.  I  didn't 
want  to  come  in,  but  now  I'm  in,  I'm  going  to  the  roots 
of  it,  and  I  shall  have  a  pretty  big  say  in  things,  too, 
later  on." 

"  Fancy !  "  said  Sabina. 

"  Oh  yes.  You  mustn't  suppose  my  brother  and  I  see 
alike  all  round.  We  don't.  He  wants  to  be  a  copy  of 
my  father,  and  I've  no  ambition  to  be  anything  of  the 
kind.  My  father  wasn't  at  all  sporting  to  me,  Sabina, 
and  it  doesn't  alter  the  fact  because  he's  dead.  The  first 
thing  is  the  workers,  and  whatever  I  am,  I'm  clever  enough 
to  know  that  if  we  don't  do  a  good  many  things  for  the 
workers  pretty  soon,  they'll  do  those  things  for  them- 
selves. But  it  will  be  a  great  deal  more  proper  and  breed 
a  lot  more  goodwill  between  labour  and  capital,  if  capital 
takes  the  first  step  and  improves  the  conditions  and  raises 
the  wages  all  round.  D'you  know  what  I  would  do  if  I 


66  THE  SPINNERS 

had  my  way  ?  I'd  go  one  better  than  the  Trade  Unions ! 
I'd  cut  the  ground  from  under  their  feet !  I'd  say  to  Cap- 
ital '  instead  of  whining  about  the  Trades  Unions,  get  to 
work  and  make  them  needless.'  ' 

But  these  gigantic  ideas,  uttered  on  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
ment by  one  who  knew  less  than  nothing  of  his  subject, 
did  not  interest  Sabina  as  much  as  he  expected.  The  rea- 
son, however,  he  did  not  know.  It  was  that  he  had  called 
her  by  her  name  for  the  first  time.  It  slipped  out  without 
intention,  though  he  was  conscious  of  it  as  he  spoke  it; 
but  he  had  no  idea  that  it  had  greatly  startled  her  and 
awoke  mingled  feelings  of  delight  and  doubt.  She  was  de- 
lighted, because  it  meant  her  name  must  have  been  often 
in  his  thoughts,  she  was  doubtful,  because  its  argued  per- 
haps a  measure  less  of  that  respect  he  had  always  paid  her. 
But,  on  the  whole,  she  felt  glad.  He  waited  for  her  to 
speak  and  did  not  know  that  she  had  heard  little,  but  was 
wondering  at  that  moment  if  he  would  go  back  to  the 
formal  '  Miss  Dinnett '  again,  or  always  call  her  '  Sabina  9 
in  future. 

After  a  pause  Raymond  spoke. 

"  Now  tell  me  about  yourself,"  he  said.  "  I'm  sure 
you've  heard  enough  about  me." 

"  There's  nothing  to  tell." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  be  a  spinner?  " 

"  Mother  was,  so  I  went  into  it  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"  I  should  have  thought  old  Churchouse  would  have  seen 
you're  a  genius,  and  educated  you  and  adopted  you." 

"  Nothing  of  a  genius  about  me.  I'm  like  most  other 
girls." 

"  I  never  saw  another  girl  like  you,"  he  said. 

"  You'd  spoil  anybody  with  your  compliments." 

"  Never  paid  a  compliment  in  my  life,"  he  declared. 

Their  conversation  became  desultory,  and  presently 
Sabina  said  she  must  be  going  home. 

"  Mother  will  be  wondering." 

On  the  way  back  they  met  another  familiar  pair  and 


A  WALK  67 

Sabina  speculated  as  to  what  Raymond  thought;  but  he 
showed  no  emotion  and  took  off  his  hat  to  Sarah  North- 
over  and  Nicholas  Roberts,  the  lathe  worker,  as  they 
passed  by.  Sarah  smiled,  and  Nicholas,  a  thin,  good- 
looking  man,  took  off  his  hat  also. 

"  I  must  go  and  study  the  lathes,"  said  Raymond  after 
they  had  passed.  "  That's  a  branch  of  the  work  I  haven't 
looked  at  yet.  Roberts  seems  a  good  chap,  and  he's  a 
very  useful  bowler,  I  find." 

"  He's  engaged  to  Sarah ;  they're  going  to  be  married 
when  he  can  get  a  house." 

"  That's  another  thing  that  must  be  looked  to.  There 
are  scores  of  cottages  that  want  pulling  down  here.  I 
shall  point  that  out  to  the  Lord  of  the  Manor  when  I  get 
a  chance." 

"  You're  all  for  changes  and  improvements,  Mister 
Ironsyde." 

"  Call  me  Raymond,  Sabina." 

"  I  couldn't  do  that." 

"Why  not?  I  want  you  to.  By  the  way,  may  I  call 
you  Sabina?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  care  to." 

They  parted  at  the  entrance  gate  of  '  The  Magnolias,' 
and  Raymond  thanked  her  very  heartily  for  her  company. 

"  I've  looked  forward  to  this,"  he  said.  "  And  now  I 
shall  look  forward  to  the  next  time.  It's  very  sporting 
of  you  to  come  and  I'm  tremendously  grateful  and  — 
good-bye,  Sabina  —  till  to-morrow." 

He  went  on  up  the  road  to  North  Hill  House  and  felt 
the  evening  had  grown  tasteless  without  her.  He  counted 
the  hours  to  when  he  would  see  her  again.  She  went  to 
work  at  seven  o'clock,  but  he  never  appeared  at  the  Mill 
until  ten,  or  later. 

He  began  to  see  that  this  was  the  most  serious  thing 
within  his  experience.  He  supposed  that  it  must  be  en- 
during and  tend  to  alter  the  whole  tenor  of  his  life. 
Marriage  was  one  of  the  stock  jokes  in  his  circle,  yet, 


68  THE  SPINNERS 

having  regard  for  Sabina,  this  meant  marriage  or  nothing. 
He  felt  ill  at  ease,  for  love  had  not  yet  taken  the  bit  and 
run  away  with  him.  Other  interests  cried  out  to  him  — 
interests  that  he  would  have  to  give  up.  He  tried  to  treat 
the  matter  as  a  joke  with  himself,  but  he  could  not.  He 
felt  melancholy,  and  that  night  at  supper  Waldron  asked 
what  was  wrong,  while  Estelle  told  him  he  must  be  ill,  be- 
cause he  was  so  dull. 

"  I  don't  believe  the  spinning  works  are  good  for  you," 
she  said. 

"  Ask  for  a  holiday  and  distract  your  mind  with  other 
things,"  suggested  Waldron.  "  If  you'd  come  out  in  the 
mornings  and  ride  for  a  couple  of  hours  before  breakfast, 
as  I  do,  you'd  be  all  right." 

"  I  will,"  promised  Raymond.     "  I  want  bucking  up." 

He  pictured  Sabina  on  horse-back. 

"  I  wish  to  God  I  was  rich  instead  of  being  a  pauper !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

"  My  advice  is  that  you  stick  it  out  for  a  year  or  more, 
till  you've  convinced  your  brother  you'll  never  be  any  good 
at  spinning,"  said  Arthur  Waldron.  "  Then,  after  he 
knows  you're  not  frightened  of  work,  but,  of  course,  can't 
excel  at  work  that  isn't  congenial,  he'll  put  money  into 
your  hands  for  a  higher  purpose,  and  you  will  go  into 
breeding  stock,  or  some  such  thing,  to  help  keep  up  the 
sporting  instincts  of  the  country." 

With  that  bright  picture  still  before  him  Raymond  re- 
tired. But  he  was  not  hopeful  and  even  vague  suggestions 
on  Waldron's  part  that  his  friend  should  become  his  bailiff 
and  study  agriculture  did  not  serve  to  win  from  the  suf- 
ferer more  than  thanks.  The  truth  he  did  not  mention, 
knowing  that  neither  Waldron,  nor  anybody  else,  would 
offer  palatable  counsel  in  connection  with  that. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    LECTURE 

DANIEL  IRONSYDE  sat  with  his  Aunt  Jenny  after  dinner 
and  voiced  discontent.  But  it  was  not  with  himself  and 
his  personal  progress  that  he  felt  out  of  tune.  All  went 
well  at  the  Mill  save  in  one  particular,  and  he  found  no 
fault  either  with  the  heads  of  the  offices  at  Bridport,  or 
with  John  Best,  who  entirely  controlled  the  manufacture 
at  Bridetown.  His  brother  caused  the  tribulation  of  his 
mind. 

Miss  Ironsyde  sympathised,  but  argued  for  Raymond. 

"  He  has  an  immense  respect  for  you  and  would  not  will- 
ingly do  anything  to  annoy  you,  I'm  sure  of  that.  You 
must  remember  that  Raymond  was  not  schooled  to  this. 
It  takes  a  boy  of  his  temperament  a  long  time  to  find  the 
yoke  easy.  You  were  naturally  studious,  and  wise  enough 
to  get  into  harness  after  you  left  school ;  Raymond,  with 
his  extraordinary  physical  powers,  found  the  fascination 
of  sport  overmastering.  He  has  had  to  give  up  what  to 
your  better  understanding  is  trivial  and  unimportant,  but 
it  really  meant  something  to  him." 

"  He  hasn't  given  up  as  much  as  you  might  think,"  an- 
swered Daniel.  "  He's  always  taking  holidays  now  for 
cricket  matches,  and  he  rides  often  with  Waldron.  It  was 
a  mistake  his  going  there.  Waldron  is  a  person  with  one 
idea,  and  a  foolish  idea  at  that.  He  only  thinks  a  man 
is  a  man  when  he's  tearing  about  after  foxes,  or  killing 
something,  or  playing  with  a  ball  of  some  sort.  He's  a 
bad  influence  for  Raymond.  But  it's  not  that.  It's  not 
so  much  what  Raymond  doesn't  do  as  what  he  does  do. 
He's  foolish  with  the  spinners  and  minders  at  the  Mill." 

69 


70  THE  SPINNERS 

"  He  might  be,"  said  Jenny  Ironsyde,  "  but  he's  a  gen- 
tleman." 

"  He's  an  idiot.  I  believe  he'd  wreck  the  whole  business 
if  he  had  the  power.  Best  tells  me  he  talks  to  the  girls 
about  what  he's  going  to  do  presently,  and  tells  them  he 
will  raise  all  their  wages.  He  suggests  to  perfectly  satis- 
fied people  that  they  are  not  getting  enough  money !  Well, 
it's  only  human  nature  for  them  to  agree  with  him,  and 
you  can  easily  see  what  the  result  of  that  would  be.  In- 
stead of  having  the  hands  willing  and  contented,  they'll 
grow  unsettled  and  grumble,  and  then  work  will  suffer  and 
a  bad  spirit  appear  in  the  Mill.  It  is  simply  insane." 

"  I  quite  agree,"  answered  his  aunt.  "  There's  no  ex- 
cuse whatever  for  nonsense  of  that  sort,  and  if  Raymond 
minded  his  own  business,  as  he  should,  it  couldn't  happen. 
Surely  his  own  work  doesn't  throw  him  into  the  company 
of  the  girls?" 

"  Of  course  it  doesn't.  It's  simply  a  silly  excuse  to 
waste  his  time  and  hear  his  own  voice.  He  ought  to  have 
learned  all  about  the  mechanical  part  weeks  ago." 

"  Well,  I  can  only  advise  patience,"  said  Miss  Ironsyde. 
"  I  don't  suppose  a  woman  would  carry  much  weight  with 
him,  an  old  one  I  mean  —  myself  in  fact.  But  failing 
others  I  will  do  what  I  can.  You  say  Mr.  Waldron's  no 
good.  Then  try  Uncle  Ernest.  I  think  he  might  touch 
Raymond.  He's  gentle,  but  he's  wise.  And  failing  that, 
you  must  tackle  him  yourself,  Daniel.  It's  your  duty. 
I  know  you  hate  preaching  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but 
there's  nobody  else." 

"  I  suppose  there  isn't.  It  can't  go  on  anyway,  be- 
cause he'll  do  harm.  I  believe  asses  like  Raymond  make 
more  trouble  than  right  down  wicked  people,  Aunt  Jenny." 

"  Don't  tell  him  he's  an  ass.  Be  patient  —  you're  won- 
derfully patient  always  for  such  a  young  man,  so  be  pa- 
tient with  your  brother.  But  try  Uncle  Ernest  first.  He 
might  ask  Raymond  to  lunch,  or  tea,  and  give  him  a  seri- 
ous talking  to.  He'll  know  what  to  say." 


THE  LECTURE  71 

"  He's  too  mild  and  easy.  It  will  go  in  at  one  ear  and 
come  out  of  the  other,"  prophesied  Daniel. 

But  none  the  less  he  called  on  Mr.  Churchouse  when  next 
at  Bridetown. 

The  old  man  had  just  received  a  parcel  by  post  and 
was  elated. 

"  A  most  interesting  work  sent  to  me  from  '  A  Well 
Wisher,'  "  he  said.  "  It  is  an  old  perambulation  of  Dor- 
setshire, which  I  have  long  desired  to  possess." 

"  People  like  your  writings  in  the  Bridport  Gazette," 
declared  Daniel.  "  Can  you  give  me  a  few  minutes,  Uncle 
Ernest?  I  won't  keep  you." 

"  My  time  is  always  at  the  service  of  Henry  Ironsyde's 
boys,"  answered  the  other,  "  and  nothing  that  I  can  do 
for  you,  or  Raymond,  is  a  trouble." 

"  Thank  you.  I'm  grateful.  It  is  about  Raymond,  as 
a  matter  of  fact." 

"  Ah.  I'm  not  altogether  surprised.  Come  into  the 
study." 

Mr.  Churchouse,  carrying  his  new  book,  led  the  way  and 
soon  he  heard  of  the  younger  man's  anxieties.  But  the 
bookworm  increased  rather  than  allayed  them. 

"Do  you  see  anything  of  Raymond?"  began  Dan- 
iel. 

"  A  great  deal  of  him.  He  often  comes  to  supper. 
But  I  will  be  frank.  He  does  not  patronise  my  simple 
board  for  what  he  can  get  there,  nor  does  he  find  my  com- 
pany very  exciting.  He  wouldn't.  The  attraction,  I'm 
afraid,  is  my  housekeeper's  daughter,  Sabina.  Sabina, 
I  may  tell  you,  is  a  very  attractive  girl,  Daniel.  It  has 
been  my  pleasure  during  her  youth  to  assist  at  her  edu- 
cation, and  she  is  well  informed  and  naturally  clever.  She 
is  inclined  to  be  excitable,  as  many  clever  people  are,  but 
she  is  of  a  charming  disposition  and  has  great  natural 
ability.  I  had  thought  she  would  very  likely  become  a 
schoolmistress ;  but  in  this  place  the  call  of  the  mills  is 
paramount  and,  as  you  know,  the  young  women  generally 


7«  THE  SPINNERS 

follow  their  mothers.  So  Sabina  found  the  thought  of  the 
spinning  attractive  and  is  now,  Mr.  Best  tells  me,  an  amaz- 
ingly clever  spinner  —  his  very  first  in  fact.  And  it  can- 
not be  denied  that  Raymond  sees  a  good  deal  of  her. 
This  is  probably  not  wise,  because  friendship,  at  their 
tender  ages,  will  often  run  into  emotion,  and,  naturally 
flattered  by  his  ingenuous  attentions,  Sabina  might  per- 
mit herself  to  spin  dreams  and  so  lessen  her  activities  as  a 
spinner  of  yarn.  I  say  she  might.  These  things  mean 
more  to  a  girl  than  a  boy." 

"  What  can  I  do  about  it  ?  I  was  going  to  ask  you  to 
talk  sense  to  Raymond." 

"  With  all  the  will,  I  am  not  the  man,  I  fear.  Sense 
varies  so  much  from  the  standpoint  of  the  observer,  my 
dear  Daniel.  You,  for  example,  having  an  old  head  on 
young  shoulders,  would  find  yourself  in  agreement  with 
my  sentiments ;  Raymond,  having  a  young  and  rather 
empty  head  on  his  magnificent  shoulders,  would  not.  I 
take  the  situation  to  be  this.  Raymond's  life  has  been 
suddenly  changed  and  his  prodigious  physical  activities 
reduced.  He  bursts  with  life.  He  is  more  alive  than  any 
youth  I  have  ever  known.  Now  all  this  exuberance  of 
nature  must  have  an  outlet,  and  what  more  natural  than 
that,  in  the  presence  of  such  an  attractive  young  woman, 
the  sex  instinct  should  begin  to  assert  itself?  " 

"  You  don't  mean  he  is  in  love,  or  anything  like  that  ?  " 

"  That  is  just  exactly  what  I  do  mean,"  answered  Mr. 
Churchouse. 

"  I  thought  he  probably  liked  to  chatter  to  them  all, 
and  hear  his  own  voice,  and  talk  rubbish  about  what  he'll 
do  for  them  in  the  future." 

"  He  has  nebulous  ideas  about  wages  and  so  on ;  but 
women  are  quicker  than  men,  and  probably  they  under- 
stand perfectly  well  that  he  doesn't  know  what  he's  talking 
about  so  far  as  that  goes.  How  would  it  be  if  you  took 
him  into  the  office  at  Bridport,  where  he  would  be  more 
under  your  eye  ?  " 


THE  LECTURE  73 

"  He  must  learn  the  business  first  and  nobody  can  teach 
him  like  Best." 

"  Then  I  advise  that  you  talk  to  him  yourself.  Don't 
let  the  fact  that  you  are  only  a  year  and  three  months 
older  than  Raymond  make  you  too  tolerant.  You  are 
really  ten,  or  twenty,  years  older  than  he  is  in  certain 
directions,  and  you  must  lecture  him  accordingly.  Be 
firm;  be  decisive.  Explain  to  him  that  life  is  real  and 
that  he  must  approach  it  with  the  same  degree  of  earnest- 
ness and  self -discipline  as  he  devotes  to  running  and  play- 
ing games  and  the  like.  I  feel  sure  you  will  carry  great 
weight.  He  is  far  from  being  a  fool.  In  fact  he  is  a 
very  intelligent  young  man  with  excellent  brains,  and  if 
he  would  devote  them  to  the  business,  you  would  soon  find 
him  your  right  hand.  The  machinery  does  honestly  in- 
terest him.  But  you  must  make  it  a  personal  thing.  He 
must  study  political  economy  and  the  value  of  labour 
and  its  relations  to  capital  and  the  market  value  of  dry 
spun  yarns.  These  vague  ideas  to  better  the  lot  of  the 
working  classes,  are  wholly  admirable  and  speak  of  a 
good  heart.  But  you  must  get  him  to  listen  to  reason 
and  the  laws  of  supply  and  demand  and  so  forth." 

"  What  shall  I  say  about  the  girls?  " 

"  It  is  not  so  much  the  girls  as  the  girl.  If  he  had 
manifested  a  general  interest  in  them,  you  need  have  said 
nothing;  but,  with  the  purest  good  will  to  Raymond  and 
a  great  personal  affection  for  Sabina,  I  do  feel  that  this 
friendship  is  not  desirable.  Don't  think  I  am  cynical 
and  worldly  and  take  too  low  a  view  of  human  nature  — 
far  from  it,  my  dear  boy.  Nothing  would  ever  make  me 
take  a  low  view  of  human  nature.  But  one  has  not  lived 
for  sixty  years  with  one's  eyes  shut.  Unhappy  things 
occur  and  Nature  is  especially  dangerous  when  you  find 
her  busy  with  such  natural  creatures  as  your  brother 
and  Sabina.  A  word  to  the  wise.  I  would  speak,  but 
you  will  do  so  with  far  greater  weight." 

"  I  hate  preaching  and  making  Raymond  think  I'm  a 


74  THE  SPINNERS 

prig  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  It  only  hardens  him 
against  me." 

"  He  knows  better.  At  any  rate  try  persuasion.  He 
has  a  remarkably  good  temper  and  a  child  could  lead  him. 
In  fact  a  child  sometimes  does.  He'd  do  anything  for 
Waldron's  little  girl.  Just  say  you  admire  and  share  his 
ambitions  for  the  welfare  of  the  workers.  Hint  at  sup- 
ply and  demand;  then  explain  that  all  must  go  according 
to  fixed  laws,  and  amelioration  is  a  question  of  time  and 
combination,  and  so  on.  Then  tackle  him  fearlessly  about 
Sabina  and  appeal  to  his  highest  instincts.  I,  too,  in  my 
diplomatic  way  will  approach  him  with  modern  instances. 
Unfortunately  it  is  only  too  easy  to  find  modern  instances 
of  what  romance  may  end  in.  And  to  say  that  modern 
instances  are  exceedingly  like  ancient  ones,  is  merely  to 
say,  that  human  nature  doesn't  change." 

Fired  by  this  advice,  Daniel  went  straight  to  the  works, 
and  it  was  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  day  when  he  entered 
his  brother's  office  above  the  Mill  —  to  find  it  empty. 

Descending  to  the  main  shop,  he  discovered  Raymond 
showing  a  visitor  round  the  machines.  Little  Estelle  Wal- 
dron  was  paying  her  first  visit  to  the  spinners  and,  de- 
lighted at  the  distraction,  Raymond,  on  whose  invitation 
she  had  come,  displayed  all  the  operation  of  turning  flax 
and  hemp  into  yarn.  He  aired  his  knowledge,  but  it  was 
incomplete  and  he  referred  constantly  to  the  operators 
from  stage  to  stage. 

Round-eyed  and  attentive,  Estelle  poured  her  whole 
heart  and  soul  into  the  business.  She  showed  a  quick 
perception  and  asked  questions  that  interested  the  girls. 
Some,  indeed,  they  could  not  answer.  Estelle's  mind  ap- 
proached their  work  from  a  new  angle  and  saw  in  it  mys- 
teries and  points  calling  for  solution  that  had  never 
challenged  them.  Neither  had  her  problems  much  struck 
Raymond,  but  he  saw  their  force  when  she  raised  them 
and  pronounced  them  most  important. 


THE  LECTURE  75 

"  Why,  that's  fundamental,  really,"  he  said,  "  and  yet, 
be  shot,  if  I  ever  thought  of  it !  Only  Best  will  know  and 
I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  doesn't." 

They  stood  at  the  First  Drawing  Frame  when  Daniel 
appeared.  They  had  followed  the  flat  ribbon  of  sliver 
from  the  Carding  Machine.  At  the  Drawing  Frame  six 
ribbons  from  the  Carder  were  all  brought  together  into 
one  ribbon  and  so  gained  in  quality,  while  losing  more  im- 
purities during  a  second  severe  process  of  combing  out. 

"  And  even  now  it's  not  ready  for  spinning,"  explained 
Raymond.  "  Now  it  goes  on  to  the  Second  Drawing 
Frame,  and  four  of  these  ribbons  from  the  First  Drawer 
are  brought  together  into  one  ribbon  again.  So  you  see 
that  no  less  than  twenty-four  ribbons  from  the  Carder 
are  brought  together  to  make  stuff  good  enough  to  spin." 

"  What  do  the  Drawing  Frames  do  to  it?  "  asked  Es- 
telle;  "  it  looks  just  the  same." 

"  Blessed  if  I  know,"  confessed  Raymond.  "  What  do 
they  do  to  it,  Mrs.  Chick?  " 

A  venerable  old  woman,  whose  simple  task  was  to  wind 
away  the  flowing  sliver  into  cans,  made  answer.  She  was 
clad  in  a  dun  overall  and  had  a  dim  scarlet  cap  of  worsted 
drawn  over  her  white  hair.  The  remains  of  beauty  homed 
in  her  brown  and  wrinkled  face ;  her  grey  eyes  were  gentle, 
and  her  expression  wistful  and  kindly. 

"  The  Drawing  Heads  level  the  '  sliver,'  and  true  it, 
and  make  it  good,"  she  said.  "  All  the  rubbish  is  dragged 
out  on  the  teeth  and  now,  though  it  seems  thinner  and 
weaker,  it  isn't  really.  Now  it  goes  to  the  Roving  Frame 
and  that  makes  it  still  better  and  ready  for  the  spinners." 

Then  came  Daniel,  and  Raymond,  leaving  Estelle  with 
Mrs.  Chick,  departed  at  his  brother's  wish.  The  younger 
anticipated  trouble  and  began  to  excuse  himself. 

"  Waldron's  so  jolly  friendly  that  I  thought  you 
wouldn't  mind  if  I  showed  his  little  girl  round  the  works. 
She's  tremendously  clever  and  intelligent." 


76  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Of  course  I  don't  mind.  That's  nothing,  but  I  want 
to  speak  to  you  on  the  general  question.  I  do  wish,  Ray- 
mond, you'd  be  more  dignified." 

"  Dignified !     Me  ?     Good  Lord !  " 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  like  that  word,  say  '  self-respecting.' 
You  might  take  longer  views  and  look  ahead." 

"  You  may  bet  your  boots  I  do  that,  Dan.  This  life 
isn't  so  delightful  that  I  am  content  to  live  in  the  present 
hour,  I  assure  you.  I  look  ahead  all  right." 

"  I  mean  look  ahead  for  the  sake  of  the  business,  not 
for  your  own  sake.  I  don't  want  to  preach,  or  any  non- 
sense of  that  kind;  but  there's  nobody  else  to  speak,  so 
I  must.  The  point  is  that  you  don't  see  in  the  least  what 
you  are  doing  here.  In  the  future  my  idea  was  —  and 
yours,  too,  I  suppose  —  that  you  came  into  the  business 
as  joint  partner  with  me  in  everything." 

"  Jolly  sporting  of  you,  Dan." 

"  But  that  being  so,  can't  you  see  you  ought  to  support 
me  in  everything?  " 

«  I  do." 

"  No,  you  don't.  You're  not  taking  the  right  line  in 
the  least,  and  what's  more,  I  believe  you  know  it  yourself. 
Don't  think  I'm  selfish  and  careless  about  our  people,  or 
indifferent  to  their  needs  and  rights.  I'm  quite  as  keen 
about  their  welfare  as  you  are ;  but  one  can't  do  every- 
thing in  a  moment.  And  you're  not  helping  them  and 
only  hindering  me  by  talking  a  lot  of  rubbish  to  them." 

"  It  isn't  rubbish,  Dan.  I  had  all  the  facts  from  Levi 
Baggs,  the  hackler.  He  understands  the  claims  of  capital 
and  what  labour  is  entitled  to,  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

"  Baggs  is  a  sour,  one-sided  man  and  will  only  give  you 
a  biassed  and  wrong  view.  If  you  want  to  know  the  truth, 
you  can  come  into  Bridport  and  study  it.  Then  you'll 
see  exactly  what  things  are  worth,  and  what  we  get  paid 
in  open  market  for  our  goods.  All  you  do  by  listening  to 
Levi  is  to  waste  your  time  and  waste  his.  And  then  you 
wander  about  among  the  women  talking  nonsense.  And 


THE  LECTURE  77 

remember  this  :  they  know  it's  nonsense.  They  understand 
the  question  very  much  better  than  you  do,  and  instead 
of  respecting  you,  as  they  ought  to  respect  a  future  mas- 
ter, they  only  laugh  at  you  behind  your  back.  And  what 
will  the  result  be?  Why,  when  you  come  to  have  a  voice 
in  the  thing,  they'll  remind  you  of  all  your  big  talk.  And 
then  you've  got  to  climb  down  and  they'll  not  respect  you, 
or  take  you  seriously." 

"  All  right,  old  chap  —  enough  said.  Only  you  needn't 
think  the  people  wouldn't  respect  me.  I  get  on  jolly  well 
with  them  as  a  matter  of  fact.  And  I  do  look  ahead  — 
perhaps  further  than  you  do.  I  certainly  wouldn't  prom- 
ise anything  I  wouldn't  try  to  perform.  In  fact,  I'm  very 
keen  about  them.  And  I  believe  if  we  scrapped  all  the 
machinery  and  got  new " 

"  When  you've  mastered  the  present  machinery,  it  will 
be  time  to  talk  about  scrapping  it,"  answered  Daniel. 
"  People  are  always  shouting  out  for  new  things,  and 
when  they  get  them  —  and  sacrifice  a  year's  profits  very 
likely  in  doing  so  —  often  the  first  thing  they  hear  from 
the  operatives  is,  that  the  old  machinery  was  much  better. 
Our  father  always  liked  to  see  other  firms  make  the  ex- 
periments." 

"  That's  the  way  to  get  left,  if  you  ask  me." 

"  I  don't  ask  you,"  answered  the  master.  "  I'm  telling 
you,  Raymond;  and  you  ought  to  remember  that  I  very 
well  know  what  I'm  talking  about  and  you  don't.  You 
must  give  me  some  credit.  To  question  me  is  to  question 
our  father,  for  I  learned  everything  from  him." 

"  But  times  change.  You  don't  want  to  be  left  high 
and  dry  in  the  march  of  progress,  my  dear  chap." 

"  No  —  you  needn't  fear  that.  If  your're  young, 
you're  a  part  of  progress;  you  belong  to  it.  But  you 
must  get  a  general  knowledge  of  the  present  situation  in 
our  trade  before  you  can  do  anything  rational  in  the  shape 
of  progress.  I've  been  left  a  very  fine  business  with  a 
very  honoured  name  to  keep  up,  and  if  I  begin  trying  to 


78  THE  SPINNERS 

run  before  I  can  walk,  I  should  very  soon  fall  down.     You 
must  see  that." 

Raymond  nodded. 

'  Yes,  that's  all  right.     I'm  a  learner  and  I  know  you 
can  teach  me  a  lot." 

"  If  you'd  come  to  me  instead  of  to  the  mill  people." 

"  You  don't  know  their  side." 

"  Much  better  than  you  do.  I've  talked  with  our  father 
often  and  often  about  it.  He  was  no  tyrant  and  nobody 
could  ever  accuse  him  of  injustice." 

Raymond  flashed ;  but  he  kept  his  mouth  shut  on  that 
theme.  The  only  bitter  quarrels  between  the  brothers  had 
been  on  the  subject  of  their  father,  and  the  younger  knew 
that  the  ground  was  dangerous.  At  this  moment  the  last 
thing  he  desired  was  any  difference  with  Daniel. 

"  I'll  keep  it  all  in  mind,  Dan.  I  don't  want  to  do  any- 
thing to  annoy  you,  God  knows.  Is  there  any  more?  I 
must  go  and  look  after  young  Estelle." 

"  Only  one  thing;  and  this  is  purely  personal,  and  so  I 
hope  you'll  excuse  me.  I've  just  been  seeing  Uncle  Ernest, 
and  nobody  wished  us  better  fortune  than  he  does." 

"  He's  a  good  old  boy.  I've  learned  a  lot  about  spin- 
ning from  him." 

"  I  know.  But  —  look  here,  Raymond,  I  do  beg  of 
you  —  I  implore  of  you  not  to  be  too  friendly  with 
Sabina  Dinnett.  You  can't  think  how  I  should  hate  any- 
thing like  that.  It  isn't  fair  —  it  isn't  fair  to  the  woman, 
or  to  me,  or  to  the  family.  You  must  see  yourself  that 
sort  of  thing  isn't  right.  She's  a  very  good  girl  —  our 
champion  spinner  Best  says ;  and  if  you  go  distracting 
her  and  taking  her  out  of  her  station,  you  are  doing  her 
a  very  cruel  turn  and  upsetting  her  peace  of  mind.  And 
the  others  will  be  jealous,  of  course,  and  so  it  will  go  on. 
It  isn't  playing  the  game  —  it  really  isn't.  That's  all. 
I  know  you're  a  sportsman  and  all  that ;  so  I  do  beg  you'll 
be  a  sportsman  in  business  too,  and  take  a  proper  line 
and  remember  your  obligations.  And  if  I've  said  a  harsh, 


THE  LECTURE  79 

or  unfair  word,  I'm  sorry  for  it;  but  you  know  I  haven't." 

Seeing  that  Sabina  Dinnett  was  now  in  paramount  and 
triumphant  possession  of  Raymond's  mind,  he  felt  thank- 
ful that  his  brother,  by  running  on  over  this  subject  and 
concluding  upon  the  whole  question,  had  saved  him  the 
necessity  for  any  direct  reply.  Whether  he  would  have 
lied  or  no  concerning  Sabina,  Raymond  did  not  stop  to 
consider.  There  is  little  doubt  that  he  would.  But  the 
need  was  escaped ;  and  so  thankful  did  he  feel,  that  he 
responded  to  the  admonishment  in  a  tone  more  complete 
and  with  promises  more  comprehensive  than  Daniel  ex- 
pected. 

"  You're  dead  right.  Of  course  I  know  it !  I've  been 
a  silly  fool  all  round.  But  I  won't  open  my  mouth  so 
wide  in  future,  Dan.  And  don't  think  I'm  wasting  my 
time.  I'm  working  like  the  devil,  really,  and  learning 
everything  from  the  beginning.  Best  will  tell  you  that's 
true.  He's  a  splendid  teacher  and  I'll  see  more  of  him 
in  future.  And  I'll  read  all  about  yarn  and  get  the  hang 
of  the  markets,  and  so  on." 

"  Thank  you  —  you  can't  say  more.  And  you  might 
come  into  Bridport  oftener,  I  think.  Aunt  Jenny  was 
saying  she  never  sees  you  now." 

"  I  will,"  promised  Raymond.  "  I'm  going  to  dine  with 
you  both  on  my  birthday.  I  believe  she'll  be  good  for  fifty 
quid  this  year.  Father  left  her  a  legacy  of  a  thousand." 

They  parted,  and  Raymond  returned  to  Estelle,  who 
was  now  watching  the  warping,  while  Daniel  went  into  his 
foreman's  office. 

Estelle  was  radiant.  She  had  fallen  in  love  with  the 
works. 

"  The  girls  are  all  so  kind  and  clever,"  she  said. 

"  Rather  so.  I  expect  you  know  all  about  everything 
now." 

"  Hardly  anything  yet.  But  you  must  let  me  come 
again.  I  do  want  to  know  all  about  it.  It  is  splendidly 
interesting," 


80  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Of  course,  come  and  go  when  you  like,  kiddy." 

"  And  I'm  going  to  ask  some  of  them  to  tea  with  me," 
declared  Estelle.  "  They  all  love  flowers,  and  I'm  going 
to  show  them  our  garden  and  my  pets.  I've  asked  seven 
of  them  and  two  men." 

"  Ask  me,  too." 

She  brought  out  a  piece  of  paper  and  showed  him  that 
she  had  written  down  nine  names. 

"  And  if  they  like  it,  they'll  tell  the  others  and  I  shall 
ask  them  too,"  she  said.  "  Father  is  always  wanting  me 
to  spend  money,  so  now  I'll  spend  some  on  a  beautiful  tea." 

Raymond  saw  the  name  of  Sabina  Dinnett. 

"  I'll  be  there  to  help  you,"  he  promised. 

"  Nicholas  Roberts  is  the  lover  of  Miss  Northover," 
explained  Estelle,  "  and  Benny  Cogle  is  the  lover  of  Miss 
Gale.  That's  why  I  asked  them.  I  very  nearly  went 
back  and  asked  Mister  Baggs  to  come,  because  he  seems  a 
silent,  sad  man ;  but  I  was  rather  frightened  of  him." 

"  Don't  ask  him ;  he's  an  old  bear,"  declared  Raymond. 

Thus,  forgetting  his  brother  as  though  Daniel  had 
ceased  to  exist,  he  threw  himself  into  Estelle's  enterprise 
and  planned  an  entertainment  that  must  at  least  have 
rendered  the  master  uneasy. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    PARTY 

ARTHUR  WALDRON  did  more  than  love  his  daughter.  He 
bore  to  her  almost  a  superstitious  reverence,  as  for  one 
made  of  superior  flesh  and  blood.  He  held  her  in  some 
sort  a  reincarnation  of  his  wife  and  took  no  credit  for 
her  cleverness  himself.  Yet  he  did  not  spoil  her,  for  her 
nature  was  proof  against  that. 

Estelle,  though  old  for  her  age,  could  not  be  called  a 
prig.  She  developed  an  abstract  interest  in  life  as  her 
intellect  unfolded  to  accept  its  wonders  and  mysteries, 
yet  she  remained  young  in  mind  as  well  as  body,  and 
was  always  very  glad  to  meet  others  of  her  own  age.  The 
mill  girls  were  indeed  older  than  she,  but  Mr.  Waldron's 
daughter  found  their  minds  as  young  as  her  own  in  such 
subjects  as  interested  her,  though  there  were  many  things 
hidden  from  her  that  life  had  taught  them. 

Her  father  never  doubted  Estelle's  judgment  or  crossed 
her  wishes.  Therefore  he  approved  of  the  proposed  party 
and  did  his  best  to  make  it  a  success.  Others  also  were 
glad  to  aid  Estelle  and,  to  her  delight,  Ernest  Churchouse, 
with  whom  she  was  in  favour,  yielded  to  entreaty  and 
joined  the  company  on  the  lawn  of  North  Hill  House. 
Tea  was  served  out  of  doors,  and  to  it  there  came  nine 
workers  from  the  mill,  and  two  of  Mr.  Best's  own  girls, 
who  were  friends  of  Estelle.  Nicholas  Roberts  arrived 
with  his  future  wife,  Sarah  Northover;  Sabina  Dinnett 
came  with  Nancy  Buckler  and  Sally  Groves  from  the 
Carding  Machine,  while  Alice  Chick  brought  old  Mrs. 
Chick ;  Mercy  Gale  came  too  —  a  fair,  florid  girl,  who 
warped  the  yarn  when  it  was  spun. 

91 


82  THE  SPINNERS 

Mr.  Waldron  was  not  a  ladies'  man,  and  after  helping 
with  the  tea,  served  under  a  big  mulberry  tree  in  the  gar- 
den, he  turned  his  attention  to  Mr.  Roberts,  already  known 
favourably  to  him  as  a  cricketer,  and  Benny  Cogle,  the  en- 
gine man.  They  departed  to  look  at  a  litter  of  puppies 
and  the  others  perambulated  the  gardens.  Estelle  had 
a  plot  of  her  own,  where  grew  roses,  and  here,  presently, 
each  with  a  rose  at  her  breast,  the  girls  sat  about  on  an 
old  stone  seat  and  listened  to  Mr.  Churchouse  discourse 
on  the  lore  of  their  trade. 

Some,  indeed,  were  bored  by  the  subject  and  stole  away 
to  play  beside  a  fountain  and  lily  pond,  where  the  gold  fish 
were  tame  and  crowded  to  their  hands  for  food ;  but  others 
listened  and  learned  surprising  facts  that  set  the  thought- 
ful girls  wondering. 

"  You  mustn't  think,  you  spinners,  that  you  are  the 
last  word  in  spinning,"  he  said ;  "  no,  Alice  and  Nancy  and 
Sabina,  you're  not ;  no  more  are  those  at  other  mills,  who 
spin  in  choicer  materials  than  flax  and  hemp  —  I  mean 
the  workers  in  cotton  and  silk.  For  the  law  of  things  in 
general,  called  evolution,  seems  to  stand  still  when  ma- 
chinery comes  to  increase  output  and  confuse  our  ideas 
of  quality  and  quantity.  Missis  Chick  here  will  tell  you, 
when  she  was  a  spinner  and  the  old  rope  walks  were  not 
things  of  the  past,  that  she  spun  quite  as  good  yarn  from 
the  bundle  of  tow  at  her  waist  as  you  do  from  the  regula- 
tion spinners." 

"  And  better,"  said  Mrs.  Chick. 

"  I  believe  you,"  declared  Ernest,  "  and  before  your 
time  the  yarn  was  better  still.  For,  though  some  of  the 
best  brains  in  men's  heads  have  been  devoted  to  the  sub- 
ject, we  go  backwards  instead  of  forwards,  and  things 
have  been  done  in  spinning  that  I  believe  will  never  be 
done  again.  In  fact,  the  further  you  go  back,  the  better 
the  yarn  seems  to  have  been,  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
how  the  laws  of  evolution  can  explain  that.  The  secret 
is  this:  machinery,  for  all  its  marvellous  improvements, 


THE  PARTY  83 

lags  far  behind  the  human  hand,  and  the  record  yarns 
were  spun  in  the  East,  while  our  forefathers  still  went 
about  in  wolf-skins  and  painted  their  faces  blue.  You 
may  laugh,  but  it  is  so." 

"  Tell  us  about  them,  Mister  Churchouse,"  begged 
Estelle. 

"  For  the  moment  we  needn't  go  back  so  far,"  he  said. 
"  I'll  remind  you  what  a  girl  thirteen  years  old  did  in 
Ireland  a  hundred  years  ago.  Only  thirteen  was  Cathe- 
rine Woods  —  mark  that,  Sabina  and  Alice  —  but  she  was 
a  genius  who  lived  in  Dunmore,  County  Down,  and  she 
spun  a  hank  of  linen  yarn  of  such  tenuity  that  it  would 
have  taken  seven  hundred  such  hanks  to  make  a  pound  of 
yarn." 

He  turned  to  Estelle. 

"  Sabina  and  the  other  spinners  will  appreciate  this,"  he 
said,  "  but  to  explain  the  marvel  of  such  spider-like  spin- 
ning, Estelle,  I  may  tell  you  that  seventeen  and  a  half 
pounds  of  Catherine's  yarn  would  have  sufficed  to  stretch 
round  the  equator  of  the  earth.  No  machine-spun  yarn 
has  ever  come  within  measurable  distance  of  this  astound- 
ing feat,  and  I  have  never  heard  of  any  spinner  in  Europe 
or  America  equalling  it ;  yet  even  this  has  been  beaten  when 
we  were  painting  our  noses  blue." 

"Where?"  asked  Estelle  breathlessly. 

"  In  the  land  of  all  wonders :  Egypt.  Herodotus  tells 
us  of  a  linen  corselet,  presented  to  the  Lacedemonians  by 
King  Amasis,  each  thread  of  which  commanded  admira- 
tion, for  though  very  fine,  each  was  twisted  of  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty  others !  And  if  you  decline  to  believe 
this " 

"  Oh,  Mister  Churchouse,  we  quite  believe  it  I'm  sure, 
sir,  if  you  say  so,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Chick. 

"  Well,  a  later  authority,  Sir  Gardiner  Wilkinson,  tells 
us  of  equal  wonders.  The  linen  which  he  unwound  from 
Egyptian  mummies  has  proved  as  delicate  as  silk,  and 
equal,  if  not  superior,  to  our  best  cambrics.  Five  hun- 


84  THE  SPINNERS 

dred  and  forty  threads  went  to  the  warp  and  a  hundred 
and  ten  to  the  weft ;  and  I'm  sure  a  modern  weaver  would 
wonder  how  they  could  produce  quills  fine  enough  for 
weaving  such  yarn  through." 

"  There's  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  seemingly,"  said 
old  Mrs.  Chick. 

"  Indeed  there  isn't,  my  dear,  and  so,  perhaps,  in  the 
time  to  come,  we  shall  spin  again  as  well  as  the  Egyptians 
five  or  six  thousand  years  ago,"  declared  Ernest. 

"  And  even  then  the  spiders  will  always  beat  us  I  ex- 
pect," said  Estelle. 

"  True  —  true,  child ;  nor  has  man  learned  the  secret 
of  the  caterpillar's  silken  spinning.  Talking  of  caterpil- 
lars, you  may,  or  may  not,  have  observed " 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Raymond,  behind  the  speaker's 
back,  beckoned  Sabina,  and  presently,  as  Mr.  Churchouse 
began  to  expatiate  on  Nature's  spinning,  she  slipped  away. 
The  garden  was  large  and  held  many  winding  paths  and 
secluded  nooks.  Thus  the  lovers  were  able  to  hide  them- 
selves from  other  eyes  and  amuse  themselves  with  their 
own  conversation. 

Sabina  praised  Estelle. 

"  She's  a  dear  little  lady  and  ever  so  clever,  I'm  sure." 

"  So  she  is,  and  yet  she  loses  a  lot.  Though  her  father's 
such  a  great  sportsman,  she  doesn't  care  a  button  about 
it.  Wouldn't  ride  on  a  pony  even." 

"  I  can  very  well  understand  that.  Nor  would  I  if  I 
had  the  chance." 

"  You're  different,  Sabina.  You've  not  been  brought 
up  in  a  sporting  family.  All  the  same  you'd  ride  jolly 
well,  because  you've  got  nerve  enough  for  anything  and 
a  perfect  figure  for  riding.  You'd  look  fairly  lovely  on 
horseback." 

"Whatever  will  you  say  next?" 

"  I  often  wonder  myself,"  he  answered.  "  This  much 
I'll  say  any  way :  it's  meat  and  drink  to  me  to  be  walking 
here  with  you.  I  only  wish  I  was  clever  and  could  really 


THE  PARTY  85 

amuse  you  and  make  you  want  to  see  me,  sometimes.  But 
the  things  I  understand,  of  course,  bore  you  to  tears." 

"  You  know  very  well  that  isn't  so,"  she  said.  "  You've 
told  me  heaps  of  things  well  worth  knowing  —  things  I 
should  never  have  heard  of  but  for  you.  And  —  and  I'm 
sure  I'm  very  proud  of  your  friendship." 

"  Good  Lord !  It's  the  other  way  about.  Thanks  to 
Mister  Churchouse  and  your  own  wits,  you  are  fearfully 
well  read,  and  your  cleverness  fairly  staggers  me.  Just 
to  hear  you  talk  is  all  I  want  —  at  least  that  isn't  all. 
Of  course,  it  is  a  great  score  for  an  everyday  sort  of  chap 
like  me  to  have  interested  you." 

Sabina  did  not  answer  and  after  a  silence  which  drew 
out  into  awkwardness,  she  made  some  remark  on  the  flow- 
ers. But  Raymond  was  not  interested  about  the  flowers. 
He  had  looked  forward  to  this  occasion  as  an  opportunity 
of  exceptional  value  and  now  strove  to  improve  the  shin- 
ing hour. 

"  You  know  I'm  a  most  unlucky  beggar  really,  Sabina. 
You  mightn't  think  it,  but  I  am.  You  see  me  cheerful, 
and  joking  and  trying  to  make  things  pleasant  for  us  all 
at  the  works ;  but  sometimes,  if  you  could  see  me  tramping 
alone  over  North  Hill,  or  walking  on  the  beach  and  look- 
ing at  the  seagulls,  you'd  be  sorry  for  me." 

"  Of  course,  I'd  be  sorry  for  you  —  if  there  was  any- 
thing to  be  sorry  for." 

"  Look  at  it.  An  open-air  man  brought  up  to  think 
my  father  would  leave  me  all  right,  and  then  cut  off  with 
nothing  and  forced  to  come  here  and  stew  and  toil  and 
wear  myself  out  struggling  with  a  most  difficult  business 
—  difficult  to  me,  any  way." 

"  I'm  sure  you're  mastering  it  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"  But  the  effort.  And  my  muscles  are  shrinking  and 
I'm  losing  weight.  But,  of  course,  that's  nothing  to  any- 
body but  myself.  And  then,  another  side :  I  want  to  think 
of  you  people  first  and  raise  your  salaries  and  so  on  — 
especially  yours,  for  you  ought  to  have  pounds  where 


86  THE  SPINNERS 

you  have  shillings.  And  my  wishes  to  do  proper  things, 
in  the  line  of  modern  progress  and  all  that,  are  turned 
down  by  my  brother.  Here  am  I  thinking  about  you  and 
worrying  and  knowing  it's  all  wrong  —  and  there's  no- 
body on  my  side  —  not  a  damned  person.  And  it  makes 
me  fairly  mad." 

"  I'm  sure  it's  splendid  of  you  to  look  at  the  Mill  in 
such  a  high-minded  way,"  declared  Sabina.  "  And  now 
you've  told  me,  I  shall  understand  what's  in  your  mind. 
I'm  sure  I  thank  you  for  the  thought  at  any  rate." 

"  If  you'd  only  be  my  friend,"  he  said. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  honour  for  a  girl  —  just  a  spin- 
ner—  to  be  that." 

"  The  honour  is  for  me.  You've  got  such  tons  of 
mind,  Sabina.  You  understand  all  the  economical  side, 
and  so  on." 

"  A  thing  is  only  worth  what  it  will  fetch,  I'm  afraid." 

"  That's  the  point.  If  you  would  help  me,  we  would  go 
into  it  and  presently,  when  I'm  a  partner,  we  could  bring 
out  a  scheme ;  and  then  you'd  know  you'd  been  instrumen- 
tal in  raising  the  tone  of  the  whole  works.  And  probably, 
if  we  set  a  good  example,  other  works  would  raise  their 
tone,  too,  and  gradually  the  workers  would  find  the  whole 
scheme  of  things  changing,  to  their  advantage." 

Sabina  regarded  this  majestic  vision  with  due  reverence. 
She  praised  his  ideals  and  honestly  believed  him  a  hero. 

They  discussed  the  subject  while  the  dusk  came  down 
and  he  prophesied  great  things. 

"  We  shall  live  to  see  it,"  he  assured  her,  "  and  it  may 
be  largely  thanks  to  you.  And  when  you  have  a  home  of 
your  own  and  —  and " 

It  was  then  that  she  became  conscious  of  his  very  near 
presence  and  the  dying  light. 

"  They'll  all  have  gone,  and  so  must  I,"  she  said,  "  and 
I  hope  you'll  thank  Miss  Waldron  dearly  for  her  nice 
party." 

"  This  is  only  the  first ;  she'll  give  dozens  more  now  that 


THE  PARTY  87 

this  has  been  such  a  success.  She  loves  the  Mill.  If  you 
come  this  way  I  can  let  you  out  by  the  bottom  gate  — 
by  the  bamboo  garden.  You've  bucked  me  up  like  any- 
thing —  you  always  do.  You're  the  best  thing  in  my  life, 
Sabina.  Oh,  if  I  was  anything  to  you  —  if  —  but  of 
course  it's  all  one  way." 

His  voice  shook  a  little.  He  burned  to  put  his  arms 
round  her,  and  Nature  shouted  so  loud  in  his  humming 
ears  that  he  hardly  heard  her  answer.  For  she  echoed 
his  emotion. 

"  What  can  I  say  to  that?  You're  so  kind  —  you  don't 
know  how  kind.  You  can't  guess  what  such  friendship 
means  to  a  girl  like  me.  It's  something  that  doesn't  come 
into  our  lives  very  often.  I'm  only  wondering  what  the 
world  will  be  like  when  you've  gone  again." 

"  I  shan't  go  —  I'm  never  going.  Never,  Sabina.  I  — 
I  couldn't  live  without  you.  Kiss  me,  for  God's  sake.  I 
must  kiss  you  —  I  must  —  or  I  shall  go  mad." 

His  arms  were  round  her  and  he  felt  her  hot  cheek 
against  his.  They  were  young  in  love  and  dared  not 
look  into  each  other's  eyes.  But  she  kissed  him  back, 
and  then,  as  he  released  her,  she  ran  away,  slipped  through 
the  wicket,  where  they  stood  and  hastened  off  by  the  lane 
to  Bridetown.  He  glowed  at  her  touch  and  panted  at  his 
triumph.  She  had  not  rebuked  him,  but  let  him  see  that 
she  loved  him  and  kissed  him  for  his  kiss.  He  did  not 
attempt  to  follow  her  then  but  turned  full  of  glory. 
Here  was  a  thing  that  dwarfed  every  interest  of  life  and 
made  life  itself  a  triviality  by  comparison.  She  loved 
him ;  he  had  won  her ;  nothing  else  that  would  be,  or  had 
been,  in  the  whole  world  mattered  beside  such  a  triumph. 
His  head  had  touched  the  stars. 

And  he  felt  amazingly  grateful  to  her.  His  thoughts 
for  the  moment  were  full  of  chivalry.  Her  life  must  be 
translated  to  higher  terms  and  new  values.  She  should 
have  the  best  that  the  world  could  offer,  and  he  would  win 
it  for  her.  Her  trust  was  so  pathetic  and  beautiful.  To 


88  THE  SPINNERS 

be  trusted  by  her  made  him  feel  a  finer  thing  and  more 
important  to  the  cosmic  scheme. 

In  itself  this  was  a  notable  sensation  and  an  addition 
of  power,  for  nobody  had  ever  trusted  him  until  now. 
And  here  was  a  radiant  creature,  the  most  beautiful  in 
the  world,  who  trusted  him  with  herself.  His  love  brought 
a  sense  of  splendour ;  her  love  brought  a  sense  of  strength. 

He  swung  back  to  the  house  feeling  in  him  such  mastery 
as  might  bend  the  whole  earth  to  his  purposes,  take  Levia- 
than with  a  hook,  and  hang  the  constellations  in  new 
signs  upon  the  void  of  heaven. 


CHAPTER  X 

WORK 

SARAH  NORTHOVER  and  another  young  woman  were  tend- 
ing the  Spread  Board.  To  this  came  the  '  long  line  '  from 
the  hackler  —  those  stricks  of  amber  hemp  and  lint-white 
flax  that  Mr.  Baggs  prepared  in  the  hackler's  shop.  The 
Spread  Board  worked  upon  the  long  line  as  the  Carder 
on  the  tow.  Over  its  endless  leathern  platform,  or  spread- 
ing carriage,  the  long  fibre  was  drawn  into  the  toothed 
gills  of  the  machine  and  converted  into  sliver  for  the 
Drawing  Frames. 

With  swift  and  rhythmic  flinging  apart  of  her  arms 
over  her  head,  Sarah  separated  the  stricks  into  three  and 
laid  them  overlapping  on  the  carriage.  The  ribbon  thus 
created  was  never-ending  and  wound  away  into  the  torture 
chambers  of  wheels  and  teeth  within,  while  from  the  rear 
of  the  Spreader  trickled  out  the  new-created  sliver.  Great 
scales  hung  beside  Sarah  and  from  time  to  time  she  weighed 
fresh  loads  of  long  line  and  recorded  the  amount. 

Her  arms  flashed  upwards,  the  divided  stricks  came 
down  to  be  laid  in  rotation  on  the  running  carriage,  and 
ceaselessly  she  and  her  fellow  worker  chattered  despite 
the  din  around  them. 

"  My  Aunt  Nelly's  coming  to  see  me  this  morning," 
said  Sarah.  "  She's  driving  over  to  talk  to  Mister  Wal- 
dron  about  his  apple  orchard  and  have  a  look  round. 
Last  year  she  bought  the  whole  orchard  for  cider;  and  if 
she  thinks  well  of  it,  she'll  do  the  same  this  year." 

"  I  wonder  you  stop  here,"  answered  the  other  girl, 
"  when  you  might  go  to  your  aunt  and  work  in  her  public- 
house.  I'd  a  long  sight  sooner  be  there  than  here." 

89 


90  THE  SPINNERS 

"  You  wouldn't  if  you  was  engaged  to  Mister  Roberts," 
answered  Sarah.  "  Of  course  seeing  him  every  day  makes 
all  the  difference.  And  as  to  work,  there's  nothing  in  it, 
for  everybody's  got  to  work  at  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  I  can 
tell  you,  and  the  work's  never  done  there." 

"  It's  the  company  I  should  like,"  declared  the  other. 
"  I'd  give  a  lot  to  see  new  people  every  day.  In  a  public 
they  come  and  go,  before  you've  got  time  to  be  sick  of  the 
sight  of  'em.  But  here,  you  see  the  same  people  and  hear 
the  same  voices  every  day  of  your  blessed  life ;  and  some- 
times it  makes  me  feel  right  down  wicked." 

"  It's  narrowing  to  the  mind  I  dare  say,  unless  you've 
got  a  man  like  Mister  Roberts  with  a  lot  of  general  ideas," 
admitted  Sarah.  "  But  you  know  very  well  for  that  mat- 
ter you  could  have  a  man  to-morrow.  Benny  Cogle's 
mate  is  daft  for  you." 

The  other  sniffed. 

"  It's  very  certain  he  ain't  got  no  general  ideas,  beyond 
the  steam  engine.  He  can  only  talk  about  the  water  wheel 
to-day  and  the  boilers  to-morrow.  When  I  find  a  chap, 
he'll  have  to  know  a  powerful  lot  more  about  life  than 
that  chap  —  and  shave  himself  oftener  also." 

"  He'd  shave  every  day  if  you  took  him,  same  as  Mister 
Roberts  does,"  said  Sarah. 

Elsewhere  Mr.  Best  was  starting  a  run  of  the  Gill  Spin- 
ner, a  machine  which  took  sliver  straight  from  the  Draw- 
ing Frames  and  spun  it  into  a  large  coarse  yarn.  A  nov- 
ice watched  him  get  the  great  machine  to  work,  make  all 
ready  and  then,  at  a  touch,  connect  it  with  the  power  and 
set  it  crashing  and  roaring.  Its  voice  was  distinctive  and 
might  be  heard  by  a  practised  ear  above  the  prevailing 
thunder. 

Then  came  Mrs.  Nelly  Northover  to  this  unfamiliar 
scene,  peeped  in  at  a  door  or  two  and  failed  to  see  Sarah, 
who  laboured  at  the  other  end  of  the  Mill.  But  the  hostess 
of  *  The  Seven  Stars  '  knew  Sabina  Dinnett  and  now  shook 
hands  with  her  and  then  stood  and  watched  in  bewildered 


WORK  91 

admiration  before   a   big   frame   of  a   hundred   spindles. 

Sabina  was  spinning  with  a  heart  very  full  of  happi- 
ness. On  the  previous  evening  she  had  promised  to  wed 
Raymond  Ironsyde,  and  her  thoughts  to-day  were  winged 
with  over-mastering  joy.  For  life  had  turned  into  a 
glorious  triumph;  the  man  who  had  asked  her  to  marry 
him  was  not  only  a  gentleman,  but  far  above  the  power  of 
any  wrong-doing.  She  knew  in  the  very  secret  places  of 
her  soul,  that  he  could  never  act  away  from  his  honest 
and  noble  character;  that  he  was  a  knight  above  reproach, 
incapable  of  wronging  any  living  thing.  There  was  an 
element  of  risk  for  most  girls  who  fell  in  love  with  those 
better  born  than  themselves ;  but  none  for  her.  Other  men 
might  deceive  and  abuse,  and  suffer  outer  influences  to  chill 
their  love,  when  the  secret  of  it  became  known ;  but  not  this 
man.  His  rare  nature  had  been  revealed  to  her ;  he  desired 
the  welfare  of  all  people ;  he  was  moved  with  nothing  but 
the  purest  principles  and  loftiest  feeling.  He  would  not 
willingly  have  brought  sorrow  to  a  child.  And  she  had 
won  this  unique  spirit!  He  loved  her  with  the  love  that 
only  such  a  man  was  great  enough  to  show;  and  she 
echoed  it  and  knew  that  such  a  passion  must  be  unchang- 
ing, everlasting,  built  not  only  to  make  their  united  lives 
unspeakably  happy  and  gloriously  content,  but  to  run 
over  also  into  the  lives  of  others,  less  blessed,  and  leave 
the  sad  world  happier  for  their  happiness.  There  was 
not  a  cloud  in  the  sky  of  her  romance  and  she  shared  with 
him  for  the  moment  the  joy  of  secrecy.  But  that  would 
not  be  long.  They  had  determined  to  hug  their  delicious 
knowledge  for  a  little  while  and  then  proclaim  the  great 
tidings  to  the  world. 

So  she  followed  the  old  road,  along  which  her  sisters  had 
tramped  from  immemorial  time,  and  would  still  tramp 
through  the  generations  to  come,  when  her  journey  was 
ended  and  the  wonderful  country  of  man's  love  explored  — 
its  oases  visited,  its  antres  endured. 

Now  Sabina  played  priestess  to  the  Spinning  Machine 


92  THE  SPINNERS 

—  a  monster  reared  above  her,  stupendous  and  insa- 
tiable. 

Along  the  summit  of  the  Spinning  Frame,  just  within 
reach  of  tall  Sabina's  uplifted  hand,  there  perched  a  row 
of  reels  from  which  the  finished  material  descended  through 
series  of  rollers.  The  retaining  roller  aloft  gave  it  to  the 
steel  delivery  roller  which  drew  the  thin,  sad-looking  stuff 
with  increased  speed  downward.  And  here  at  its  moment 
of  most  shivering  tenuity,  when  the  perfected  and  purified 
material  seemed  reduced  to  an  extremity  of  weakness,  came 
the  magic  change.  Unseen  in  the  whirring  complexity 
of  the  spinner,  it  received  the  momentous  gift  that  trans- 
lates fibre  to  yarn.  In  a  moment  it  changed  from  stuff  a 
baby's  finger  could  break  to  thread  capable  of  supporting 
fifteen  pounds  of  pressure.  For  now  came  the  twist  — 
that  word  of  mighty  significance  —  and  the  tiny  thread 
of  new-born  yarn  descended  to  the  spindle,  vanished  in  the 
whirl  of  the  flier  and  reappeared,  an  accomplished  miracle, 
winding  on  the  bobbin  beneath. 

Upon  the  spindle  revolved  the  flier  —  a  fork  of  steel  with 
guide  eye  at  one  leg  of  the  fork  —  and  through  the  guide 
eye  came  the  twisted  yarn  to  wind  on  the  bobbin  below. 
There,  as  the  bobbin  frame  rose  and  fell,  the  thread  was 
perfectly  delivered  to  the  reel  and  coiled  off  layer  by 
layer  upon  it. 

Mrs.  Northover  stared  to  see  the  nature  of  a  spinner's 
duties  and  the  ease  with  which  she  controlled  the  great, 
pulsing,  roaring  frame  of  a  hundred  spindles.  Sabina's 
eyes  were  everywhere ;  her  hands  were  never  still ;  her  feet 
seemed  to  dance  a  measure  to  the  thunder  of  the  Frame. 
Now  she  marked  a  roving  reel  aloft  that  was  running  out, 
and  in  a  moment  she  had  broken  the  sliver,  swept  away 
the  empty  reel  and  hung  up  a  full  one.  Then  she  drew 
the  new  sliver  down  to  the  point  of  the  break  and,  in  a 
moment,  the  two  merged  and  the  thread  ran  on.  Now  her 
fingers  touched  the  spindles,  as  a  musician  touches  the 
keys,  and  at  a  moment's  pressure  the  machine  obeyed  and 


WORK  93 

the  yarn  flew  on  its  way  obedient.  Now  she  cleared  a 
snarl,  or  catch,  where  a  spindle  appeared  to  have  run 
amuck  or  created  hopeless  confusion;  now  she  readjusted 
the  weights  that  kept  a  drag  on  the  humming  bobbins. 
Her  twinkling  hands  touched  and  calmed  and  fed  the 
monster.  She  knew  its  whims,  corrected  its  errors, 
brought  to  her  insensate  machine  the  complement  of  brain 
that  made  it  trustworthy.  And  when  the  bobbins  were  all 
full,  she  hastened  along  the  Frame,  turned  off  the  driving 
power  and  silenced  the  huge  activity  in  a  moment.  Then, 
like  lightning,  she  cut  her  hundred  threads  and  lifted  the 
bobbins  from  their  spindles  until  she  had  a  pile  upon  her 
shoulder.  In  a  marvellously  short  time  she  had  doffed 
the  bobbins  and  set  up  a  hundred  empty  ones.  Then  the 
cut  threads  were  readjusted,  the  power  turned  on  and  all 
was  motion  again. 

Sabina  had  never  calculated  her  labours,  until  Raymond 
took  the  trouble  to  do  so ;  then  she  learned  a  fact  that 
astonished  her.  He  found  that  it  took  a  hundred  and 
fifty  minutes  to  spin  one  thousand  and  fifty  yards ;  and  as 
each  spindle  spun  two  and  a  half  miles  in  ten  hours,  her 
daily  accomplishment  was  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of 
yarn. 

"  You  spin  from  seventy  to  eighty  thousand  miles  of 
single  yarn  a  year,"  he  told  her,  and  the  fact  expressed 
in  these  terms  amazed  her  and  her  sister  spinners. 

Now  Nelly  Northover  praised  the  performance. 

"  To  think  that  you  slips  of  girls  can  do  anything  so 
wonderful !  "  she  said.  "  We  talk  of  the  spinners  of  Brid- 
port  as  if  they  were  nobodies ;  but  upon  my  conscience, 
Sabina,  I  never  will  again.  I've  always  thought  I  was  a 
pretty  busy  woman;  but  I'd  drop  to  the  earth  I'm  sure 
after  an  hour  of  your  job,  let  alone  ten  hours." 

Sabina  laughed. 

"  It's  use,  Mrs.  Northover.  Some  take  to  it  like  a 
duck  to  water.  I  did  for  one.  But  some  never  do.  If 
you  come  to  the  Frame  frightened,  you  never  make  a 


94  THE  SPINNERS 

spinner.  They're  like  humans,  the  Spinning  Frames;  if 
they  think  you're  afraid  of  them,  they'll  always  bully  you, 
but  if  you  show  them  you're  mistress,  it's  all  right.  They 
have  their  moods  and  whims,  just  as  we  have.  They 
vary,  and  you  never  know  how  the  day  will  go.  Some- 
times everything  runs  smoothly ;  sometimes  nothing  does. 
Some  days  you're  as  fresh  at  the  end  as  the  beginning; 
some  days  you're  dog-tired  and  worn  out  after  a  proper 
fight." 

"  There's  something  hungry  and  cruel  and  wicked  about 
'em  to  my  eye,"  declared  Mrs.  Northover. 

"  We're  oftener  in  fault  than  the  Frames,  however. 
Sometimes  the  spinner's  to  blame  herself  —  she  may  be 
out  of  sorts  and  heavy-handed  and  slow  on  her  feet  and 
can't  put  up  her  ends  right,  or  do  anything  right;  and 
often  it's  the  fault  of  the  other  girls  and  the  *  rove  '  comes 
to  the  spinner  rough;  and  often,  again,  it's  just  luck  — 
good  or  bad.  If  the  machine  always  ran  perfect,  there'd 
be  nothing  to  do.  But  you've  got  to  use  your  wits  from 
the  time  it  starts  to  the  time  it  stops." 

"  The  creature  would  best  me  every  time,"  said  the  vis- 
itor, regarding  Sabina's  machine  with  suspicion  and  some- 
thing akin  to  dislike. 

The  spinner  stopped  a  fouled  spindle  and  rubbed  her 
hand. 

"  Sometimes  the  yarn's  always  snarling  and  your  drag 
weights  are  always  burning  off  and  the  stuff  is  full  of 
kinks  and  the  sliver's  badly  pieced  up  —  that's  the  draw- 
ing minder's  fault  —  and  a  bad  drawing  minder  means 
work  for  me.  Your  niece,  Sarah,  is  a  very  good  drawing 
minder,  Mrs.  Northover.  Then  you'll  get  ballooning,  when 
the  thread  flies  round  above  the  flier,  and  that  means  too 
little  strain  on  the  jamb  and  the  bobbin  has  got  to  be 
tempered.  And  often  it's  too  hot,  or  else  too  cold,  for 
hemp  and  flax  must  have  their  proper  temperature.  But 
to-day  my  machine  is  as  good  and  kind  as  a  nice  child, 
that  only  asks  to  be  fed  and  won't  quarrel  with  anybody." 


WORK  95 

Mrs.  Northover,  however,  saw  nothing  to  praise,  for 
Sabina's  speech  had  been  broken  a  dozen  times. 

"  If  that's  what  you  call  working  kindly,  I'd  like  to  see 
the  wretch  in  a  nasty  mood,"  she  said.  "  I  lay  you  want 
to  slap  it  sometimes." 

Sabina  was  mending  a  drag  that  had  burned  off.  The 
drags  were  heavy  weights  hanging  from  strings  that 
pressed  upon  the  side  of  the  bobbins  and  controlled  their 
speed.  The  friction  often  burned  these  cords  through  and 
the  weights  had  to  be  lifted  and  retied  again  and  again. 

"  We  want  a  clever  invention  to  put  this  right,"  she 
said.  "  A  lot  of  good  time's  wasted  with  the  weights. 
Nobody's  thought  upon  the  right  thing  yet." 

"  I'm  properly  dazed,"  confessed  Nelly  Northover. 
"  You  live  and  learn  without  a  doubt  —  nothing's  so  true 
as  that." 

Her  niece  had  seen  her  and  approached,  as  the  machin- 
ery began  to  still  for  the  dinner-hour. 

"  Morning,  Sarah.  'Can  you  do  such  wonders  as  Miss 
Dinnett?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  Aunt  Nelly.  I'm  a  spreader  minder.  But  I'll 
be  a  spinner  some  day,  if  Mr.  Roberts  likes  for  me  to  stop 
here  after  I'm  married." 

"  Sarah  would  soon  learn  to  spin,"  declared  Sabina. 

Then  she  turned  to  bid  Raymond  Ironsyde  good  morn- 
ing. His  brother  was  away  from  Bridport  on  a  tour 
with  one  of  his  travellers,  that  he  might  become  acquainted 
with  many  of  his  more  important  customers.  Raymond, 
therefore,  felt  safe  and  was  wasting  a  good  deal  of  his 
time.  He  had  brought  a  basket  of  fruit  from  North  Hill 
House  —  a  present  from  Estelle  —  and  he  began  to  dis- 
pense plums  and  pears  as  the  women  streamed  away  to 
dinner. 

They  knew  him  very  well  now  and  treated  him  with 
varying  degrees  of  familiarity.  Early  doubts  had  van- 
ished, and  they  took  him  as  a  good  natured,  rather  '  soft ' 
young  man,  who  meant  well  and  was  friendly  and  harm- 


96  THE  SPINNERS 

less.  The  ill-educated  are  always  suspicious,  and  Levi 
Baggs  declared  from  the  first  that  Raymond  was  nothing 
better  than  his  brother's  spy,  placed  here  for  a  time  to 
inquire  into  the  ambitions  and  ideas  of  the  workers  and 
so  help  the  firm  to  combat  the  lawful  demands  of  those 
whom  they  employed;  but  this  theory  was  long  exploded 
save  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Baggs  himself.  The  people  of 
Bridetown  Mill  held  Raymond  on  their  side,  and  all  were 
secretly  interested  to  know  what  would  spring  of  his  frank 
friendship  with  Sabina. 

In  serious  moments  Raymond  felt  uneasy  at  the  rela- 
tions he  had  established  with  the  workers,  and  Mr.  Best 
did  not  hesitate  to  warn  him  again  and  again  that  dis- 
cipline was  ill  served  by  such  easy  terms  between  employer 
and  employed;  but  his  moments  of  perspicuity  were  rare, 
for  now  his  mind  and  soul  were  poured  into  one  thought 
and  one  only.  He  was  riotously  happy  in  his  love  af- 
fair and  could  not  pretend  to  his  fellow  creatures  any- 
thing he  did  not  feel.  Always  amiable  and  accessible, 
his  romance  made  him  still  more  so,  and  he  was  constitu- 
tionally unable  at  this  moment  to  take  a  serious  view  of 
anything  or  anybody. 

One  ray  of  hope,  however,  Mr.  Best  recognised :  Ray- 
mond did  show  an  honest  and  genuine  interest  in  the  ma- 
chines. He  had  told  the  foreman  that  he  believed  the 
great  problem  lay  there,  and  where  machinery  was  con- 
cerned he  could  be  exceedingly  intelligent  and  rational. 
This  trait  in  him  had  a  bearing  on  the  future  and,  in  time 
to  come,  John  Best  remembered  its  inception  and  per- 
ceived how  it  had  developed. 

Now,  his  fruit  dispensed,  Raymond  talked  with  Sabina 
about  the  Spinning  Frame  and  instructed  Mrs.  Northover, 
who  was  an  acquaintance  of  his,  in  its  mysteries. 

"  These  are  old-fashioned  frames,"  he  declared,  "  and 
I  shan't  rest  till  I've  turned  them  out  of  the  works  and 
got  the  latest  and  best.  I'm  all  for  the  new  things,  be- 
cause they  help  the  workers  and  give  good  results.  In 


WORK  97 

fact,  I  tell  my  brother  that  he's  behind  the  times.  That's 
the  advantage  of  coming  to  a  subject  fresh,  with  your 
mind  unprejudiced.  Daniel's  all  bound  up  in  the  past 
and,  of  course,  everything  my  father  did  must  be  right ; 
but  I  know  better.  You  have  to  move  with  the  times, 
and  if  you  don't  you'll  get  left." 

"  That's  true  enough,  Mr.  Ironsyde,  whatever  your 
business  may  be,"  answered  Mrs.  Northover. 

"  Of  course  —  look  at  <  The  Seven  Stars.'  You're  al- 
ways up  to  date,  and  why  should  my  spinners  —  I  call 
them  mine  —  why  should  they  have  to  spin  on  machines 
that  come  out  of  the  ark,  when,  by  spending  a  few  thou- 
sand, they  could  have  the  latest?  " 

"  You've  got  to  balance  cost  against  value,"  answered 
the  innkeeper.  "  It  don't  do  to  dash  at  things.  One 
likes  for  the  new  to  be  tried  on  its  merits  first,  and  then, 
if  it  proves  all  that's  claimed  for  it,  you  go  in  and  keep 
abreast  of  the  times  according;  but  the  old  will  often  be 
found  as  good  as  the  new;  and  so  Mr.  Daniel  no  doubt 
looks  before  he  leaps." 

"  That's  cowardly  in  my  opinion,"  replied  Raymond. 
"  You  must  take  the  chances.  Of  course  if  you're  fright- 
ened to  back  your  judgment,  then  that  shows  you're  a 
second  class  man  with  a  second  class  sort  of  mind ;  but  if 
you  believe  in  yourself,  as  everybody  does  who  is  any 
good,  then  you  go  ahead,  and  if  you  come  a  purler  now 
and  again,  that's  nothing,  because  you  get  it  back  in 
other  ways.  I'm  not  frightened  to  chance  my  luck,  am  I, 
Sabina?" 

"  Never  was  such  a  brave  one,  I'm  sure,"  she  said,  con- 
scious of  their  secret. 

"  If  you  haven't  got  nerve,  you're  no  good,"  summed 
up  the  young  man ;  "  and  if  you  have  got  nerve,  then  use 
it  and  break  out  of  the  beaten  track  and  welcome  your 
luck  and  court  a  few  adventures  for  your  soul's  sake." 

"  All  very  well  for  you  men,"  said  Mrs.  Northover. 
"  You  can  have  adventures  and  no  great  harm  done ;  but 


98  THE  SPINNERS 

us  women,  if  we  try  for  adventures,  we  come  to  a  bad  end." 

"  Nobody's  more  adventurous  than  you,"  answered  Ray- 
mond. "  Look  at  your  gardens  and  your  teas  for  a  bob 
ahead.  Wasn't  that  an  adventure  —  to  give  a  better 
tea  than  anybody  in  Bridport?  " 

"  I  believe  women  have  quite  as  many  adventures  as 
men,"  declared  Sarah  Northover,  who  was  waiting  for 
her  aunt,  "  only  we're  quieter  about  'em." 

"  We've  got  to  be,"  answered  Mrs.  Northover.  "  Now 
come  on  to  your  mother's,  Sarah.  There's  Mr.  Roberts 
waiting  for  us  outside." 

In  the  silent  and  empty  mill  Raymond  dawdled  for  a 
few  minutes  with  Sabina,  talked  love  and  won  a  caress. 
Then  she  put  on  her  sunbonnet  and  he  walked  with  her  to 
the  door  of  her  home,  left  her  at  '  The  Magnolias  '  and 
went  his  way  with  Estelle's  fruit  basket. 

A  great  expedition  had  been  planned  by  the  lovers  for 
a  forthcoming  public  holiday.  They  were  going  to  rise 
in  the  dawn,  before  the  rest  of  the  world  was  awake,  and 

tramp  out  through  West  Haven  to  Golden  Cap the 

supreme  eminence  of  the  south  coast,  that  towers  with 
bright,  sponge-coloured  precipices  above  the  sea,  nigh 
Lyme. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    OLD    STORE-HOUSE 

THROUGH  a  misty  morning,  made  silver  bright  by  the  risen 
sun,  Sabina  and  Raymond  started  for  their  August  holi- 
day. They  left  Bridetown,  passed  through  a  white  fog 
on  the  water-meadows  and  presently  climbed  to  the  cliffs 
and  pursued  their  way  westward.  Now  the  sun  was  over 
the  sea  and  the  Channel  gleamed  and  flashed  under  a 
wakening,  westerly  breeze. 

To  West  Haven  they  came,  where  the  cliffs  break  and 
the  rivers  from  Bridport  flow  through  sluices  into  the 
little  harbour. 

Among  the  ancient,  weather-worn  buildings  standing 
here  with  their  feet  in  the  sand  drifts,  was  one  specially 
picturesque.  A  long  and  lofty  mass  it  presented,  and  a 
hundred  years  of  storm  and  salt-laden  winds  had  toned  it 
to  rich  colour  and  fretted  its  roof  and  walls  with  countless 
stains.  It  was  a  store,  three  stories  high,  used  of  old  time 
for  merchandise,  but  now  sunk  to  rougher  uses.  In  its 
great  open  court,  facing  north,  were  piled  thousands  of 
tons  of  winnowed  sand ;  its  vaults  were  barred  and  empty ; 
its  glass  windows  were  shattered;  rust  had  eaten  away  its 
metal  work  and  rot  reduced  its  doors  and  sashes  to  powder. 
Rich  red  and  auburn  was  its  face,  with  worn  courses  of 
brickwork  like  wounds  gashed  upon  it.  A  staircase  of 
stone  rose  against  one  outer  wall,  and  aloft,  in  the  cham- 
bers approached  thereby,  was  laid  up  a  load  of  sweet 
smelling,  deal  planks  brought  by  a  Norway  schooner. 
Here  too,  were  all  manner  of  strange  little  chambers,  some 
full  of  old  nettings,  others  littered  with  the  marine  stores 
of  the  fishermen,  who  used  the  ruin  for  their  gear.  The 

99 


100  THE  SPINNERS 

place  was  rat-haunted  and  full  of  strange  holes  and  cor- 
ners. Even  by  day,  with  the  frank  sunshine  breaking 
through  boarded  windows  and  broken  roof,  it  spoke  of 
incident  and  adventure;  by  night  it  was  eloquent  of  the 
past  — r  of  smugglers,  of  lawless  deeds,  of  Napoleonic 
spies. 

Raymond  and  Sabina  stood  and  admired  the  old  store. 
To  her  it  was  something  new,  for  her  activities  never 
brought  her  to  West  Haven ;  but  he  had  been  familiar  with 
it  from  childhood,  when,  with  his  brother,  he  had  spent 
school  holidays  at  West  Haven,  caught  prawns  from  the 
pier,  gone  sailing  with  the  fisher  folk,  and  spent  many  a 
wet  day  in  the  old  store-house. 

He  smiled  upon  it  now,  told  her  of  his  childish  ad- 
ventures and  took  her  in  to  see  an  ancient  chamber  where 
he  and  Daniel  had  often  played  their  games. 

"  Our  nurse  used  to  call  it  a  '  cubby  hole,'  "  he  said. 
"  And  she  was  always  jolly  thankful  when  she  could  pilot 
us  in  here  from  the  dangers  of  the  cliffs  and  the  old  pier, 
or  the  boats  in  the  harbour.  The  place  is  just  the  same 
—  only  shrunk.  The  plaster  from  the  walls  is  all  mould- 
ering away,  or  you  might  see  the  pictures  we  used  to  draw 
upon  them  with  paint  from  the  fishermen's  paint  pots. 
Down  below  they  bring  the  sand  and  grade  it  for  the 
builders.  They've  carted  away  millions  of  tons  of  sand 
from  the  foreshore  in  the  last  fifty  years  and  will  cart 
away  millions  more,  no  doubt,  for  the  sea  always  renews 
it." 

She  wandered  with  him  and  listened  half-dreaming. 
The  air  for  them  was  electric  with  their  love  and  they 
yearned  for  each  other. 

"  I  wish  we  could  spend  the  whole  blessed  day  in  this 
little  den  together,"  he  said  suddenly  putting  his  arms 
round  her ;  and  that  brought  her  to  some  sense  of  reality, 
but  none  of  danger.  Not  a  tremor  of  peril  in  his  com- 
pany had  she  ever  felt,  for  did  not  perfect  love  cast  out 
fear,  and  why  should  a  woman  hesitate  to  trust  her- 


THE  OLD  STOREHOUSE         101 

self  with  one,  to  her,  the  most  precious   in  the  world? 

He  suggested  dawdling  awhile;  but  she  would  not. 

"  We  are  to  eat  our  breakfast  at  Eype  Beach,"  she  re- 
minded him,  "  and  that's  a  mile  or  two  yet." 

So  they  went  on  their  way  again,  breasted  the  grassy 
cliffs  westward  of  the  haven,  admired  the  fog  bank  touched 
with  gold  that  hung  over  the  river  flats,  praised  Bridport 
wakening  under  its  leafy  woods,  marked  the  herons  on  the 
river  mud  in  the  valley  and  the  sparrow-hawk  poised  aloft 
above  the  downs.  She  took  his  arm  up  the  hill  and,  like 
birds  themselves,  they  went  lightly  together,  strong,  lis- 
some, radiant  in  health  and  youth  and  the  joy  of  a  shared 
worship  that  made  all  things  sweet. 

They  talked  of  the  great  day  when  the  world  was  to 
know  their  secret.  The  secret  itself  proved  so  attractive 
to  both  that  they  agreed  to  keep  it  a  little  longer.  Their 
shared  knowledge  proved  amusing  and  each  told  the  other 
of  the  warnings  and  advice  and  fears  imparted  by  careful 
friends  of  both  sexes,  who  knew  not  the  splendid  truth. 

How  small  the  wisdom  of  the  wise  appeared  —  how 
peddling  and  foolish  and  mean  —  contrasted  with  their 
superb  trust.  How  sordid  were  the  ways  of  the  world,  its 
fears  and  suspicions,  from  the  vantage  point  to  which  they 
had  climbed.  Material  things  even  suggested  this  thought 
to  Raymond,  and  when  before  noon,  they  stood  on  the 
green  crown  of  Golden  Cap,  with  the  earth  and  sea  spread 
out  around  them  in  mighty  harmonies  of  blue  and  green, 
he  told  Sabina  so. 

"  We  ought  to  be  perched  on  a  place  like  this,"  he  said, 
"  because  we  are  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  in  mind  and  in 
happiness,  as  we  are  here  in  body  too." 

"  Only  the  sea  gulls  can  go  higher,  and  I  always  feel 
they're  more  like  spirits  than  birds,"  she  answered. 

"  I've  got  no  use  for  spirits,"  he  told  her.  "  The 
splendid  thing  about  us  is  that  we're  flesh  and  blood  and 
spirit  too.  That's  the  really  magnificent  combination  for 
creatures.  A  spirit  at  best  can  only  be  an  un- 


102  THE  SPINNERS 

finished  thing.  People  make  such  a  fuss  about  escaping 
from  the  flesh.  What  the  deuce  do  you  want  to  escape 
from  your  flesh  for,  if  it's  healthy  and  tough  and  fine?  " 

"  When  they  get  old,  they  feel  like  that." 

"Let  the  old  comfort  the  old  then,"  he  said.  "I'm 
proud  of  my  flesh  and  bones,  and  so  are  you,  and  so  we 
ought  to  be ;  and  if  I  had  to  give  them  up  and  die,  I  should 
hate  it.  And  if  I  found  myself  in  another  world,  a  poor 
shivering  idea  and  nothing  else,  without  flesh  and  bones 
to  cover  me,  or  clothes  to  cover  them,  I  should  feel  ashamed 
of  myself.  And  they  might  call  it  Paradise  as  much  as 
they  liked,  but  it  would  be  Hades  to  me.  Of  course  many 
of  the  ghosts  would  pretend  that  they  liked  it;  but  I  bet 
none  would  really  —  so  jolly  undignified  to  be  nothing  but 
an  idea." 

She  laughed. 

"  That's  just  what  I  feel  too;  and  of  course  it's  utterly 
wrong  of  us,"  she  said.  "  It  shows  we  have  got  a  lot  to 
learn.  We  only  feel  like  this  because  we're  young.  Per- 
haps young  ghosts  begin  like  that ;  but  I  expect  they  soon 
get  past  it." 

"  I  should  never  want  to  get  past  it,"  he  said. 

He  rolled  over  on  the  grass  and  played  with  her  hand. 

"  How  could  you  love  and  cuddle  a  ghost  ?  " 

"  No  doubt  you  could  love  it.  I  don't  suppose  you 
could  cuddle  it.  You  wouldn't  want  to." 

"  No  —  that's  true,  Sabina.  If  this  cliff  carried  away 
this  moment,  and  we  were  both  smashed  to  pulp  and  ar- 
rived together  in  another  world  without  any  clothes  and 
both  horribly  down  on  our  luck  —  but  it's  too  ghastly  a 
picture.  I  should  howl  all  through  eternity  —  to  think 
what  I'd  missed." 

They  talked  nonsense,  played  with  their  thoughts  and 
came  nearer  and  nearer  together.  One  tremendous  and 
masterful  impulse  drew  them  on  —  a  raging  hunger  and 
thirst  on  his  part  and  something  not  widely  different  on 
hers.  Again  and  again  they  caught  themselves  in  each 


THE  OLD  STORE-HOUSE         103 

other's  arms,  then  broke  off,  grew  serious  and  strove  to 
steady  the  trend  of  their  desires. 

Golden  Cap  was  a  lonely  spot  and  few  visited  it  that 
day.  Once  a  middle-aged  man  and  woman  surprised  them 
where  they  sat  behind  a  rock  near  the  edge  of  the  great 
precipices.  The  man  had  grown  warm  and  mopped  his 
face  and  let  the  wind  cool  it. 

He  was  ugly,  clumsily  built,  and  displayed  large  calves 
in  knickerbockers  and  a  hot,  bald  head. 

"  How  hideous  human  beings  can  be,"  said  Raymond 
after  they  had  gone. 

"  He  wasn't  hideous  in  his  wife's  eyes,  I  expect." 

"  Middle-age  is  mercifully  blind  no  doubt  to  its  own 
horrors,"  he  said.  "  You  can  respect  and  even  admire  old 
age,  like  other  ruins,  if  it's  picturesque,  but  middle-age  is 
deadly  always." 

He  smoked  and  they  dawdled  the  hours  away  until 
Sabina  declared  it  was  tea  time.  Then  they  sought  a  lit- 
tle inn  at  Chideock  and  spent  an  hour  there. 

The  weather  changed  as  the  sun  went  westerly;  the 
wind  sank  to  a  sigh  and  brought  with  it  rail}  clouds.  But 
they  were  unconscious  of  such  accidents.  Sabina  longed 
for  the  cliffs  again,  so  they  turned  homeward  by  Seaton 
and  Thorncombe  Beacon  and  Eype  Mouth.  Their  talk 
ran  upon  marriage  and  Raymond  swore  that  he  could 
not  wait  long,  while  she  urged  the  importance  to  him  of  so 
doing. 

"  'Twould  shake  your  brother  badly  if  you  wed  yet 
awhile,  be  sure  of  that,"  she  said.  "  He  would  say  that 
you  weren't  thinking  of  the  work,  and  it  might  tempt  him 
to  change  his  mind  about  making  you  a  partner." 

"  Oh  damn  him.  Don't  talk  about  him  —  or  work 
either.  I  shall  never  want  to  work  again,  or  think  of 
work,  or  anything  else  on  earth  till  —  till — ^What  does 
he  matter  anyway  —  or  his  ideas  ?  It's  a  free  country 
and  a  man  has  the  right  to  plan  his  life  his  own  way.  If 
he  wants  to  get  the  best  out  of  me,  he'd  better  give  me  five 


104  THE  SPINNERS 

hundred  a  year  to-morrow  and  tell  me  to  marry  you." 
"  We  don't  want  five  hundred.     That's  a  fortune.     I'm 
a  good  manager  and  know  very  well  how  far  money  can  go. 
With  your  money  and  mine." 

"  Yours  ?     You  won't  have  any  —  except  mine.     You'll 
stop  work  then  and  live  —  not  at  Bridetown  anyway." 
"  I  was  forgetting.     It  will  be  funny  not  to  spin." 
"  You'll  spin  my  happiness  and  my  life  and  my  fate  and 
my  children.     You'll  have  plenty  of  spinning.     I'll  spin 
for  you  and  you'll  spin  for  me." 

"  You  darling  boy !     I  know  you'll  spin  for  me." 
"Work!     What's  the  good  of  working  for  yourself?  " 
he  asked.     "  Who  the  devil  cares  about  himself?     It's  be- 
cause I  don't  care  a  button  for  myself  that  I  haven't 

bothered  about  the  Mill.     But  when  it  comes  to  you ! 

You're  worth  working  for!  I  haven't  begun  to  work  yet. 
I'll  surprise  Daniel  presently  and  everybody  else,  when  I 
fairly  get  into  my  stride.  I  didn't  ask  for  it  and  I  didn't 
want  it ;  but  as  I've  got  to  work,  I  will  work  —  for  you. 
And  you'll  live  to  see  that  my  brother  and  his  ways  and 
plans  and  small  outlook  are  all  nothing  to  the  way  I  shall 
grasp  the  business.  And  he'll  see,  too,  when  I  get  the  lead 
by  sheer  better  understanding.  And  that  won't  be  my 
work,  Sabina.  It  will  be  yours.  Nothing's  worth  too 
much  toil  for  you.  And  if  you  couldn't  inspire  a  man  to 
wonderful  things,  then  no  woman  could." 

This  fit  of  exaltation  passed  and  the  craving  for  her 
dominated  him  again  and  took  psychological  shape.  He 
grew  moody  and  abstracted.  His  voice  had  a  new  note  in 
it  to  her  ear.  He  was  fighting  with  himself  and  did  not 
guess  what  was  in  her  mind,  or  how  unconsciously  it  echoed 
to  his. 

At  dusk  the  rain  came  and  they  ran  before  a  sudden 
storm  down  the  green  hills  back  to  West  Haven.  The 
place  already  sank  into  night  and  a  lamp  or  two  twinkled 
through  the  grey.  It  was  past  eight  o'clock  and  Ray- 
mond decided  for  dinner. 


THE  OLD  STORE-HOUSE          105 

"  We'll  go  to  the  <  Brit  Arms,5  "  he  said,  "  and  feed  and 
get  dry.  The  rain  won't  last." 

"  I  told  mother  I  should  be  home  by  nine." 

"  Well,  you  told  her  wrong.  D'you  think  I'm  going  to 
chuck  away  an  hour  of  this  day  for  a  thousand  mothers  ?  " 

When  they  sauntered  out  into  the  night  again  at  ten 
o'clock,  the  Haven  had  nearly  gone  to  sleep  and  the  rain 
was  past.  In  the  silence  they  heard  the  river  rushing 
through  the  sluices  to  the  sea ;  and  then  they  set  their  faces 
homeward. 

But  they  had  to  pass  the  old  store-house.  It  loomed  a 
black,  amorphous  pile  heaved  up  against  the  stars,  and  the 
man's  footsteps  dragged  as  he  came  to  the  gaping  gates 
and  silent  court. 

He  stopped  and  she  stopped. 

His  voice  was  gruff  and  queer  and  half-choked. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  I'm  in  hell,  and  you've  got  to  turn 
it  to  heaven." 

She  murmured  something,  but  he  put  his  arm  round  her 
and  they  vanished  into  the  mass  of  silent  darkness. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  they  parted  at  the  door  of 
Sabina's  home  and  he  gave  her  the  cool  kiss  of  afterwards. 

"  Now  we  are  one,  body  and  soul,  for  ever,"  she  whis- 
pered to  him. 

"  By  God,  yes,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XII 

CREDIT 

THE  mind  of  Raymond  Ironsyde  was  now  driven  and  tossed 
by  winds  of  passion  which,  blowing  against  the  tides  of  his 
own  nature,  created  unrest  and  storm.  A  strain  of  chiv- 
alry belonged  to  him  and  at  first  this  conquered.  He  felt 
the  magnitude  of  Sabina's  sacrifice  and  his  obligation  to  a 
love  so  absolute.  In  this  spirit  he  remained  for  a  time, 
during  which  their  relations  were  of  the  closest.  They 
spoke  of  marriage ;  they  even  appointed  the  day  on  which 
the  announcement  of  their  betrothal  should  be  made.  And 
though  he  had  gone  thus  far  at  her  entreaty,  always  recog- 
nising when  with  her  the  reasonableness  of  her  wish,  after 
she  was  gone,  the  cross  seas  of  his  own  character,  created  a 
different  impression  and  swept  the  pattern  of  Sabina's 
will  away. 

For  a  time  the  intrigue  of  meeting  her,  the  planning  and 
the  plotting  amused  him.  He  imagined  the  world  was 
blind  and  that  none  knew,  or  guessed,  the  truth.  But 
Bridetown,  having  eyes  as  many  and  sharp  as  any  other 
hamlet,  had  long  been  familiar  with  the  facts.  The  trans- 
parent veil  of  their  imagined  secrecy  was  already  rent, 
though  the  lovers  did  not  guess  it. 

Then  Raymond's  chivalry  wore  thinner.  Ruling  pas- 
sions, obscured  for  a  season  by  the  tremendous  experience 
of  his  first  love  and  its  success,  began  by  slow  degrees  to 
rise  again,  solid  and  challenging,  through  the  rosy  clouds. 
His  love,  while  he  shouted  to  himself  that  it  increased 
rather  than  diminished,  none  the  less  assumed  a  change  of 
colour  and  contour.  The  bright  vapours  still  shone  and 
Sabina  could  always  kindle  ineffable  glow  to  the  fabric ; 
but  she  away,  they  shrank  a  little  and  grew  less  radiant. 

106 


CREDIT  107 

The  truth  of  himself  and  his  ambitions  showed  through. 
At  such  times  he  dinned  on  the  ears  of  his  heart  that  Sabina 
was  his  life.  At  other  times  when  the  fading  fire  aston- 
ished him  by  waking  a  shiver,  he  blamed  fate,  told  himself 
that  but  for  the  *lack  of  means,  he  would  make  a  perfect 
home  for  Sabina ;  worship  and  cherish  her ;  fill  her  life 
with  happiness ;  pander  to  her  every  whim ;  devote  a  large 
portion  of  his  own  time  to  her;  do  all  that  wit  and  love 
could  devise  for  her  pleasure  —  all  but  one  thing. 

He  did  not  want  to  marry  her.  With  that  deed  de- 
manding to  be  done,  the  necessity  for  it  began  to  be  ques- 
tioned sharply.  He  was  not  a  marrying  man  and,  in  any 
case,  too  young  to  commit  himself  and  his  prospects  to 
such  a  course.  He  assured  himself  that  he  had  never  con- 
templated immediate  marriage;  he  had  never  suggested  it 
to  Sabina.  She  herself  had  not  suggested  it;  for  what 
advantage  could  be  gained  by  such  a  step  ?  While  a  thou- 
sand disasters  might  spring  therefrom,  not  the  least  being 
a  quarrel  with  his  brother,  there  was  nothing  to  be  said  for 
it.  He  began  to  suspect  that  he  could  do  little  less  likely 
to  assure  Sabina's  future.  He  clung  to  his  strand  of 
chivalry  at  this  time,  like  a  drowning  man  to  a  straw ;  but 
other  ingredients  of  his  nature  dragged  him  away.  Selfish- 
ness is  the  parent  of  sophistry,  and  Raymond  found  him- 
self dismissing  old  rules  of  morality  and  inherited  instincts 
of  religion  and  justice  for  more  practical  and  worldly 
values.  He  told  himself  it  was  as  much  for  Sabina's  sake 
as  for  his  own  that  he  must  now  respect  the  dictates  of 
common-sense. 

There  came  a  day  in  October,  when  the  young  man  sat  in 
his  office  at  the  mills,  smoking  and  absorbed  with  his  own 
affairs.  The  river  Bride  was  broken  above  the  works,  and 
while  her  way  ran  south  of  them,  the  mill-race  came  north. 
Its  labour  on  the  wheel  accomplished,  the  current  turned 
quickly  back  to  the  river  bed  again.  From  Raymond's 
window  he  could  see  the  main  stream,  under  a  clay  bank, 
where  the  martins  built  their  nests  in  spring,  and  where 


108  THE  SPINNERS 

rush  and  sedge  and  an  over-hanging  sallow  marked  her 
windings.  The  sunshine  found  the  stickles,  and  where 
Bride  skirted  the  works  lay  a  pool  in  which  trout  moved. 
Water  buttercups  shone  silver  white  in  this  back-water  at 
spring-time  and  the  water-voles  had  their  haunts  in  the 
bank  side. 

Beyond  stretched  meadow-lands  and  over  the  hill  that 
rose  behind  them  climbed  the  road  to  the  cliffs.  Hounds 
had  ascended  this  road  two  hours  before  and  their  music 
came  faintly  from  afar  to  Raymond's  ear,  then  ceased. 
Already  his  relations  with  Sabina  had  lessened  his  will  to 
pleasure  in  other  directions.  His  money  had  gone  in  gifts 
to  her,  leaving  no  spare  cash  for  the  old  amusements ;  but 
the  distractions,  that  for  a  time  had  seemed  so  tame  con- 
trasted with  the  girl,  cried  louder  and  reminded  how  neces- 
sary and  healthy  they  were. 

Life  seemed  reduced  to  the  naked  question  of  cash.  He 
was  sorry  for  himself.  It  looked  hard,  outrageous,  wrong, 
that  tastes  so  sane  and  simple  as  his  own,  could  not  be 
gratified.  A  horseman  descended  the  hill  and  Raymond 
recognised  him.  It  was  Neddy  Motyer.  His  horse  was 
lame  and  he  walked  beside  it.  Raymond  smiled  to  himself, 
for  Neddy,  though  a  zealous  follower  of  hounds,  lacked 
judgment  and  often  met  with  disaster. 

Ten  minutes  later  Neddy  himself  appeared. 

"  Come  to  grief,"  he  said.  "  Horse  put  his  foot  into  a 
rabbit  hole  and  cut  his  knee  on  a  flint.  I've  just  taken  him 
to  the  vet.  here  to  be  bandaged,  so  I  thought  I'd  look  you 
up.  Why  weren't  you  out?  " 

"  I've  got  more  important  things  to  think  about  for  the 
minute." 

Neddy  helped  himself  to  a  cigarette. 

"  Growing  quite  the  man  of  business,"  he  said.  "  What 
will  power  you've  got !  A  few  of  us  bet  five  to  one  you 
wouldn't  stick  it  a  month ;  but  here  you  are.  Only  I  can 
tell  you  this,  Ray :  you're  wilting  under  it.  You're  not 


CREDIT  109 

half  the  man  you  were.  You're  getting  beastly  thin  — 
looking  a  worm  in  fact." 

Raymond  laughed. 

"  I'm  all  right.  Plenty  of  time  to  make  up  for  lost 
time." 

"  It's  metal  more  attractive,  I  believe,"  hazarded  Mot- 
yer.  "  A  little  bird's  been  telling  us  things  in  Bridport. 
Keep  clear  of  the  petticoats,  old  chap  —  the  game's  never 
worth  the  candle.  I  speak  from  experience." 

"  Do  you  ?  I  shouldn't  think  any  girl  would  have  much 
use  for  you." 

66  Oh  yes,  they  have  — *  plenty  of  them.  But  once  bit, 
twice  shy.  I  had  an  adventure  last  year." 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  it." 

Neddy  showed  concern. 

"  You're  all  over  the  shop,  Ray.  These  blessed  works 
are  knocking  the  stuffing  out  of  you  and  spoiling  your 
temper.  Are  you  coming  to  the  '  smoker  '  at '  The  Tiger  ' 
next  month  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  do.  You  want  bucking.  It'll  be  a  bit  out  of 
the  common.  Jack  Buckler's  training  at  ;  The  Tiger ' 
for  his  match  with  Solly  Blades.  You  know  —  eliminating 
round  for  middle-weight  championship.  And  he's  going 
to  spar  three  rounds  with  our  boy  from  the  tannery  — 
Tim  Chick." 

"  I  heard  about  it  from  one  of  our  girls  here  —  a  cousin 
of  Tim's.  But  I'm  off  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Since  when?  " 

"  You  can't  understand,  Ned ;  but  life's  too  short  for 
everything.  Perhaps  you'll  have  to  turn  to  work  someday. 
Then  you'll  know." 

"  You  don't  work  from  eight  o'clock  at  night  till  eleven 
anyway.  Take  my  tip  and  come  to  the  show  and  make  a 
night  of  it.  Waldron's  going  to  be  there.  He's  hunting 
this  morning." 


•no  THE  SPINNERS 

"  I  know." 

The  dinner  bell  had  rung  and  now  there  came  a  knock  at 
Raymond's  door.  Then  Sabina  entered  and  was  depart- 
ing again,  but  her  lover  bade  her  stay. 

"  Don't  go,  Sabina.  This  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Motyer  — 
Miss  Dinnett." 

Motyer,  remembering  Raymond's  recent  snub,  was  ex- 
ceedingly charming  to  Sabina.  He  stopped  and  chatted 
another  five  minutes,  then  mentioned  the  smoking  concert 
again  and  so  took  his  departure.  Raymond  spoke  slight- 
ingly of  him  when  he  had  gone. 

"  He's  no  good,  really,"  he  said.  "  An  utter  waster  and 
only  a  hanger-on  of  sport  —  can't  do  anything  himself 
but  talk.  Now  he'll  tell  everybody  in  Bridport  about  you 
coming  up  here  in  the  dinner-hour.  Come  and  cheer  me 
up.  I'm  bothered  to  death." 

He  kissed  her  and  put  his  arms  round  her,  but  she  would 
not  stop. 

"  I  can't  stay  here,"  she  said.  "  I  want  to  walk  up  the 
hill  with  you.  If  you're  bothered,  so  am  I,  my  darling." 

He  put  on  his  hat  and  they  went  out  together. 

"  I've  had  a  nasty  jar,"  she  told  him.  "  People  are  be- 
ginning to  say  things,  Raymond  —  things  that  you 
wouldn't  like  to  think  are  being  said." 

"  I  thought  we  rose  superior  to  the  rest  of  the  world, 
and  what  it  said  and  what  it  thought." 

"  We  do  and  we  always  have.  We're  not  moral  cowards 
either  of  us.  But  there  are  some  things.  You  don't  want 
me  to  be  insulted.  You  don't  want  either  of  us  to  lose 
the  respect  of  people." 

"  We  can't  have  our  cake  and  eat  it  too,  I  suppose,"  he 
said  rather  carelessly.  "  Personally  I  don't  care  a  straw 
whether  people  respect  me,  or  despise  me,  as  long  as  I 
respect  myself.  The  people  that  matter  to  me  respect  me 
all  right." 

"  Well,  the  people  that  matter  to  me,  don't,"  she  an- 
swered with  a  flash  of  colour.  "  We'll  leave  you  out,  Ray- 


CREDIT  111 

mond,  since  you're  satisfied;  but  I'm  not  satisfied.  It 
isn't  right,  or  fair,  that  I  should  begin  to  get  sour  looks 
from  the  women  here,  where  I  used  to  have  smiles ;  and 
looks  from  the  men  —  hateful  looks  —  looks  that  no  decent 
woman  ought  to  suffer.  And  my  mother  has  heard  a  lot 
of  lies  and  is  very  miserable.  So  I  think  it's  high  time 
we  let  everybody  know  we're  engaged.  And  you  must 
think  so,  too,  after  what  I've  told  you,  Ray  dear." 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered,  "  not  a  shadow  of  doubt 
about  it.  And  if  I  saw  any  man  insult  you,  I  should  de- 
light to  thrash  him  on  the  spot  —  or  a  dozen  of  them. 
How  the  devil  do  people  find  out  about  one?  I  thought 
we'd  been  more  than  clever  enough  to  hoodwink  a  dead 
alive  place  like  this." 

"  Will  you  let  me  tell  mother,  to-day  ?  And  Sally 
Groves,  and  one  or  two  of  my  best  friends  at  the  Mill? 
Do,  Raymond  —  it's  only  fair  to  me  now." 

Had  she  left  unspoken  her  last  sentence,  he  might  have 
agreed ;  but  it  struck  a  wrong  note  on  his  ear.  It  sounded 
selfish ;  it  suggested  that  Sabina  was  concerned  with  her- 
self and  indifferent  to  the  complications  she  had  brought 
into  his  life.  For  a  moment  he  was  minded  to  answer 
hastily ;  but  he  controlled  himself. 

"It's  natural  you  should  feel  like  that;  so  do  I,  of 
course.  We  must  settle  a  date  for  letting  it  out.  I'll 
think  about  it.  I'd  say  this  minute,  and  you  know  I'm 
looking  forward  quite  as  much  as  you  are  to  letting  the 
world  know  my  luck;  but  unfortunately  you've  just  raised 
the  question  at  an  impossible  moment,  Sabina." 

"  Why  ?  Surely  nothing  can  make  it  impossible  to  clear 
my  good  name,  Raymond?  " 

"  I've  got  a  good  name,  too.     At  least,  I  imagine  so." 

"  Our  names  are  one,  or  should  be." 

"  Not  yet,  exactly.  I  wanted  to  spare  you  bothers.  I 
do  spare  you  all  the  bothers  I  can ;  but,  of  course,  I've  got 
my  own,  too,  like  everybody  else.  You  see  it's  rather  vital 
to  your  future,  which  you're  naturally  so  keen  about, 


THE  SPINNERS 

Sabina,  that  I  keep  in  with  my  brother.  You'll  admit  that 
much.  Well,  for  the  moment  I'm  having  the  deuce  of  a 
row  with  him.  You  know  what  an  exacting  beggar  he  is. 
He  will  have  his  pound  of  flesh,  and  he  has  no  sympathy 
for  anything  on  two  legs  but  himself.  I  asked  him  for  a 
fortnight's  holiday." 

"  A  fortnight's  holiday,  Raymond !  " 

"  Yes  —  that's  not  very  wonderful,  is  it  ?  But,  of 
course,  you  can't  understand  what  this  work  is  to  me,  be- 
cause you  look  at  it  from  a  different  angle.  Anyway  I 
want  a  holiday  —  to  get  right  away  and  consider  things ; 
and  he  won't  let  me  have  it.  And  finding  that,  I  lost  my 
temper.  And  if,  at  the  present  moment,  Daniel  hears  that 
we're  engaged  to  be  married,  Sabina,  it's  about  fifty  to  one 
that  he'd  chuck  me  altogether  and  stop  my  dirty  little 
allowance  also." 

They  had  reached  the  gate  of  '  The  Magnolias,'  and 
Sabina  did  a  startling  thing.  She  turned  from  him  and 
went  down  the  path  to  the  back  entrance  without  another 
word.  But  this  he  could  not  stand.  His  heart  smote  him 
and  he  called  her  with  such  emotion  that  she  also  was 
sorrowful  and  cstme  back  to  the  gate. 

"  Good  God !  you  frightened  me,"  he  said.  "  This  is  a 
quarrel,  Sabina  —  our  first  and  last,  I  hope.  Never, 
never  let  anything  come  between  us.  That's  unthinkable 
and  I  won't  have  it.  You  must  give  and  take,  my  precious 
girl.  And  so  must  I.  But  look  at  it.  What  on  earth 
happens  to  us  if  Daniel  fires  me  out  of  the  Mill?  " 

"  He's  a  just  man,"  she  answered.  "  Dislike  him  as  we 
may,  he's  a  just  man  and  you  need  not  fear  him,  or  any- 
body else,  if  you  do  the  right  thing." 

"  You  oppose  your  will  to  mine,  then,  Sabina?  " 

"  I  don't  know  your  will.  I  thought  I  did ;  I  thought  I 
understood  you  so  well  by  now  and  was  learning  better  and 
better  how  to  please  you.  But  now  I  tell  you  I  am  being 
wronged,  and  you  say  nothing  can  be  done." 

"  I  never  said  so.     I'm  not  a  blackguard,  Sabina,  and 


CREDIT  113 

you  ought  to  know  that  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  world. 
I'm  poor,  unfortunately,  and  the  poor  have  got  to  be 
politic.  Daniel  may  be  just,  but  it's  a  narrow-minded, 
Hypocritical  justice,  and  if  I  tell  him  I'm  engaged  to  you, 
he'll  sack  me.  That's  the  plain  English  of  it." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  would." 

"  Well,  I  know  he  would ;  and  you  must  at  least  allow 
me  to  know  more  about  him  than  you  do.  And  so  I  ask 
you  whether  it  is  common-sense  to  tell  him  what's  going  to 
happen,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  clod-hoppers,  who  matter  to 
nobody,  or  — — " 

"  But,  but,  how  long  is  it  to  go  on?  Why  do  you  shrink 
from  doing  now  what  you  wanted  to  do  at  first  ?  " 

"  I  don't  shrink  from  it  at  all.  I  only  intend  to  choose 
the  proper  time  and  not  give  the  show  away  at  a  moment 
when  to  do  so  will  be  to  ruin  me." 

"  *  Give  the  show  away,'  "  she  quoted  bitterly.  "  You 
can  look  me  in  the  face  and  say  a  thing  like  that !  It's  only 
6  a  show  '  to  you ;  but  it's  my  life  to  me." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  used  the  expression.  Words  aren't  any- 
thing. It's  my  life  to  me,  too.  And  I've  got  to  think  for 
both  of  us.  In  a  week,  or  ten  days,  I'll  eat  humble  pie  and 
climb  down  and  grovel  to  Daniel.  Then,  when  I'm  par- 
doned, we'll  tell  everybody.  It  won't  kill  you  to  wait  an- 
other fortnight  anyway.  And  in  the  meantime  we'd  better 
see  less  of  each  other,  since  you're  getting  so  worried  about 
what  your  friends  say  about  us." 

Now  he  had  said  too  much.  Sabina  would  have  agreed 
to  the  suggestion  of  a  fortnight's  waiting,  but  the  pro- 
posal that  they  should  see  less  of  each  other  both  hurt  and 
angered  her.  The  quarrel  culminated. 

"  Caution  seems  to  me  rather  a  cowardly  thing,  Ray- 
mond, from  you  to  me.  I  tell  you  that  your  wife's  good 
name  is  at  stake.  For,  since  you've  called  me  your  wife  so 
often,  I  suppose  I  may  do  the  same.  And  if  you're  so 
careless  for  my  credit,  then  I  must  be  jealous  for  it  my- 
self." .,::  •  V 


THE  SPINNERS 

"  And  my  credit  can  go  to  the  devil,  I  suppose?  " 

Then  she  flamed,  struck  to  the  root  of  the  matter  and 
left  him. 

"  If  the  fact  that  you're  engaged  to  me,  by  every  sacred 
tie  of  honour,  ruins  your  credit  — ?  then  tell  yourself  what 
you  are,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  rose  to  a  note  he  had 
never  heard  before. 

This  time  he  did  not  call  her  back,  but  went  his  own  way 
up  the  hill. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


MR.  BEST  was  a  good  gardener  and  cultivated  fruit  and 
flowers  to  perfection.  His  rambling  patch  of  ground  ran 
beside  the  river  and  some  of  his  apple  trees  bent  over  it. 
Pear  trees  also  he  grew,  and  a  medlar  and  a  quince.  But 
flowers  he  specially  loved.  His  house  was  bowered  in 
roses  to  the  thatched  roof,  and  in  the  garden  grew  lilies 
and  lupins,  a  hundred  roses  and  many  bright  tracts  of 
shining,  scented  blossoms.  Now,  however,  they  had  van- 
ished and  on  a  Saturday  afternoon  John  Best  was  tidying 
up,  tending  a  bonfire  and  digging  potatoes. 

He  was  generous  of  his  treasures  and  the  girls  never 
hesitated  to  ask  him  for  a  rose  in  June.  Ancient  Mrs. 
Chick,  too,  won  an  annual  gift  from  the  foreman.  Down 
one  side  of  his  garden  ranged  great  elder  bushes,  and  Mrs. 
Chick  made  of  the  blooth  in  summer  time,  a  decoction  very 
precious  for  throat  troubles. 

Now  Best  stood  for  a  moment  and  regarded  a  waste 
corner  where  grew  nettles.  Somebody  approached  him  in 
this  act  of  contemplation  and  he  spoke. 

"  I  often  wonder  if  it  would  be  worth  while  making  an 
experiment  with  stinging  nettles,"  he  said  to  Ernest 
Churchouse,  who  was  the  visitor. 

"  They  have  a  spinnable  fibre,  John,  without  a  doubt." 

"  They  have,  Mister  Churchouse,  and  they  scutch  well 
and  can  be  wrought  into  textiles.  But  there's  no  tempta- 
tion to  make  trial.  I'm  only  thinking  in  a  scientific 
spirit." 

He  swept  up  the  fallen  nettles  for  his  bonfire. 

"  I've  come  for  a  few  balls  of  the  rough  twine,"  said  Mr. 
Churchouse. 

115 


116  THE  SPINNERS 

"  And  welcome." 

An  unusual  air  of  gloom  sat  on  Mr.  Best  and  the  other 
was  quick  to  observe  it. 

"All  well,  I  hope?  "he  said. 

"  Not  exactly.  I'm  rather  under  the  weather ;  but  I 
dare  say  it's  my  own  fault." 

"  It  often  is,"  admitted  Ernest ;  "  but  in  my  experience 
that  doesn't  make  it  any  better.  In  fact,  the  most  dis- 
agreeable sort  of  depression  is  that  which  we  know  we  are 
responsible  for  ourselves.  When  other  people  annoy  us, 
we  have  the  tonic  effect  of  righteous  indignation ;  but  not 
when  we  annoy  ourselves  and  know  ourselves  to  blame." 

"  I  wouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  say  it's  all  my  own  fault, 
however,"  answered  Mr.  Best.  "  It  is  and  it  isn't  my 
fault.  To  be  a  father  of  children  is  your  own  fault  in  a 
manner  of  speaking;  and  yet  to  be  a  father  is  not  any 
wrong,  other  things  being  as  they  should." 

"  On  the  contrary,  it's  part  of  the  whole  duty  of  man  — 
other  things  being  equal,  as  you  say." 

"  We  look  to  see  ourselves  reflected  in  our  offspring,  yet 
how  often  do  we  ?  "  asked  the  foreman. 

"  Perhaps  we  might  oftener,  if  we  didn't  suffer  from 
constitutional  inability  to  recognise  ourselves,  John.  I've 
thought  of  this  problem,  let  me  tell  you,  for  you  are  one  of 
many  who  feel  the  same.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  parents 
worry  about  what  their  children  look  like  to  them;  but 
never  about  what  they  look  like  to  their  children." 

66  You  speak  as  a  childless  widower,"  answered  the  other. 
"  Believe  me,  Mister  Churchouse,  children  nowadays  never 
hesitate  to  tell  us  what  we  look  like  to  them  —  or  what  they 
think  of  us  either.  Even  my  sailor  boy  will  do  it." 

"  It's  the  result  of  education,"  said  Ernest.  "  There  is 
no  doubt  that  education  has  altered  the  outlook  of  the  child 
on  the  parent.  The  old  relation  has  disappeared  and  the 
fifth  commandment  does  not  make  its  old  appeal.  Chil- 
dren are  better  educated  than  their  parents." 

"  And  what's  the  result  ?     They'd  kill  the  home  goose 


I 


IN  THE  FOREMAN'S  GARDEN     117 

that  lays  the  golden  eggs  to-morrow,  if  they  could.  In 
fact,. they're  doing  it.  Those  that  remain  reasonable  and 
obedient  to  their  fathers  and  mothers  feel  themselves  mar- 
tyrs. That's  the  best  sort ;  but  it  ain't  much  fun  having 
a  house  full  of  martyrs  whether  or  no ;  and  it  ain't  much 
fun  to  know  that  your  offspring  are  merely  enduring  you, 
as  a  necessary  affliction.  As  for  the  other  sort,  who  can't 
stick  home  life  and  old-fashioned  ideas,  they  just  break 
loose  and  escape  as  quick  as  ever  they  know  how  —  and 
no  loss  either." 

"  A  gloomy  picture,"  admitted  Mr.  Churchouse ;  "  but, 
like  every  other  picture,  it  has  two  sides.  I  think  time 
may  be  trusted  to  put  it  right.  After  the  young  have  left 
the  nest,  and  hopped  out  into  the  world,  and  been  sharply 
pecked  now  and  again,  they  begin  to  see  home  in  its  true 
perspective  and  find  that  there  is  nothing  like  the  affection 
of  a  mother  and  father." 

"  They  don't  want  anything  of  that,"  declared  John. 
"  If  you  stand  for  sense  and  experience  and  try  to  learn 
them,  they  think  you're  a  fossil  and  out  of  sight  of  reality ; 
and  if  you  attempt  to  be  young  and  interest  yourself  in 
their  wretched  little  affairs  and  pay  the  boy  with  the  boys 
and  the  girl  with  the  girls,  they  think  you're  a  fool." 

"  No  doubt  they  see  through  any  effort  on  the  part  of 
the  middle-aged  to  be  one  with  them,"  admitted  Ernest. 
"  And  for  my  part  I  deprecate  such  attempts.  Let  us 
grow  old  like  gentlemen,  John,  and  if  they  cannot  perceive 
the  rightness  and  stateliness  of  age,  so  much  the  worse  for 
them.  Some  of  us,  however,  err  very  gravely  in  this  mat- 
ter. There  are  men  who  have  not  the  imagination  to  see 
themselves  growing  old;  they  only  feel  it.  And  they  try 
to  hide  their  feelings  and  think  they  are  also  hiding  the 
fact.  Such  men,  of  course,  become  the  laughing-stocks  of 
the  rising  generation  and  the  shame  of  their  own." 

"  All  the  young  are  alike,  so  I  needn't  grumble  at  my 
own  family  for  that  matter,"  confessed  Mr.  Best.  "  Their 
generation  is  all  equally  headstrong  and  opinionated  — 


118  THE  SPINNERS 

high  and  low,  the  same.  If  I've  hinted  to  Raymond  Iron- 
syde  once,  I've  hinted  a  thousand  times,  that  he's  not  going 
about  his  business  in  a  proper  spirit." 

"  He  is  at  present  obviously  in  love,  John,  and  must  not 
therefore  be  judged.  But  I  share  your  uneasiness." 

"  It's  wrong,  and  he  knows  it,  and  she  ought  to  know  it, 
too.  Sabina,  I  mean.  I  should  have  given  her  credit  for 
more  sense  myself.  I  thought  she  had  plenty  of  self- 
respect  and  brains  too." 

"  Things  are  coming  to  a  crisis  in  that  quarter,"  proph- 
esied Ernest.  "  It  is  a  quality  of  love  that  it  doesn't  stand 
still,  John ;  and  something  is  going  to  happen  very  shortly. 
Either  it  will  be  given  out  that  they  are  betrothed,  or  else 
the  thing  will  fade  away.  Sabina  has  very  fine  instincts ; 
and  on  his  side,  he  would,  I  am  sure,  do  nothing  unbecom- 
ing his  family." 

"  He  has  —  plenty,"  declared  Mr.  Best. 

"  Nothing  about  which  there  would  not  be  two  opinions, 
believe  me.  The  fact  that  he  has  let  it  go  so  far  makes  me 
think  they  are  engaged.  The  young  will  go  their  own  way 
about  things." 

"  If  it  was  all  right,  Sabina  Dinnett  wouldn't  be  so 
miserable,"  argued  John  Best.  "  She  was  used  to  be  as 
cheerful  as  a  bird  on  a  bough ;  and  now  she  is  not." 

"  Merely  showing  that  the  climax  is  at  hand.  I  have 
seen  myself  lately  that  Sabina  was  unhappy  and  even  taxed 
her  with  it;  but  she  denied  it.  Her  mother,  however, 
knows  that  she  is  a  good  deal  perturbed.  We  must  hope 
for  the  best." 

"  And  what  is  the  best  ?  "  asked  John. 

"  There  is  not  the  slightest  difficulty  about  that ;  the 
best  is  what  will  happen,"  replied  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  As 
a  good  Christian  you  know  it  perfectly  well." 

But  the  other  shook  his  head. 

"  That  won't  do,"  he  answered,  "  that's  only  evasion, 
Mister  Ernest.  There's  lots  and  lots  of  things  happen, 


IN  THE  FOREMAN'S  GARDEN     119 

and  the  better  the  Christian  you  are,  the  better  you  know 
they  ought  not  to  happen.  And  whether  they  are  en- 
gaged to  be  married,  or  whether  they  quarrel,  trouble  must 
come  of  it.  If  people  do  wrong,  it's  no  good  for  Chris- 
tians to  say  the  issue  must  be  right.  That's  simply  weak- 
minded.  You  might  as  well  argue  nothing  wrong  ever 
does  happen,  since  nothing  can  happen  without  the  will  of 
God." 

"  In  a  sense  that's  true,"  admitted  Ernest.  "  So  true, 
in  fact,  that  we'd  better  change  the  subject,  John.  We 
thinking  and  religious  men  know  there's  a  good  deal  of  thin 
ice  in  Christianity,  where  we've  got  to  walk  with  caution 
and  not  venture  without  a  guide.  One  needs  professional 
theologians  to  skate  over  these  dangerous  places  safely. 
But,  for  my  part,  I  have  my  reason  well  under  control,  as 
every  religious  person  should.  I  can  perfectly  accept  the 
fact  that  evil  happens,  and  yet  that  nothing  happens  with- 
out the  sanction  of  an  all  powerful  and  all  good  God." 

"  You'd  better  come  and  get  your  string  then,"  said  Mr. 
Best.  "  And  long  may  your  fine  faith  flourish.  You're  a 
great  lesson  to  us  people  cursed  with  too  much  common- 
sense,  I'm  sure." 

"  Where  our  religion  is  concerned,  we  should  be  too 
proud  to  submit  it  to  common-sense,"  declared  Ernest. 
"  Common-sense  is  all  very  well  in  everyday  affairs ;  in 
fact,  this  world  would  not  prosper  without  it;  but  I 
strongly  deprecate  common-sense  as  applied  to  the  next 
world,  John.  The  next  world,  from  what  one  glimpses  of 
it  in  prophecy  and  revelation,  is  outside  the  category  of 
common-sense  altogether." 

"  I  stand  corrected,"  said  Mr.  Best.  "  But  it's  a 
startler  —  to  leave  common-sense  out  of  what  matters 
most  to  thinking  men." 

"  We  shall  be  altered  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,"  ex- 
plained Ernest,  "  and  so,  doubtless,  will  be  our  humble, 
earthly  intelligence,  our  reliance  on  reason  and  other  mun- 


120  THE  SPINNERS 

dane  virtues.  From  the  heavenly  standpoint,  earth  will 
seem  a  very  sordid  business  altogether,  I  suspect,  and  even 
our  good  qualities  appear  very  peddling.  In  fact,  we  may 
find,  John,  that  we  were  in  the  habit  of  putting  up  statues 
to  the  wrong  persons,  and  discover  the  most  unexpected 
people  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Throne." 

"  I  dare  say  we  shall,"  admitted  Mr.  Best ;  "  for  if  com- 
mon-sense is  going  by  the  board  and  the  virtues  all  to  be 
scrapped  also,  then  we  that  think  we  stand  had  better  take 
heed  lest  we  fall  —  you  and  me  included,  Mister  Church- 
ouse.  However,  I'm  glad  to  say  I'm  not  with  you  there. 
The  Book  tells  us  very  clear  what's  good  and  what's  evil ; 
and  whatever  else  Heaven  will  do,  it  won't  go  back  on  the 
Book.  I  suppose  you'll  grant  that  much?  " 

"  Most  certainly,"  said  the  elder.  "  Most  certainly  and 
surely,  John.  That,  at  least,  we  can  rely  upon.  Our 
stronghold  lies  in  the  fact  that  we  know  good  from  evil, 
and  though  we  don't  know  what  '  infinite  '  goodness  is,  we 
do  know  that  it  is  still  goodness.  Therefore,  though  God 
is  infinitely  good,  He  is  still  good;  the  difference  between 
His  goodness  and  ours  is  one  of  degree,  not  kind.  So 
metaphysics  and  quibbling  leave  us  quite  safe,  which  is  all 
that  really  matters." 

"  I  hope  you're  right,"  answered  Best.  "  Life  puts 
sharp  questions  to  religion,  and  I  can't  pretend  my  re- 
ligion's always  clever  enough  to  answer  them." 

Ernest  took  his  twine  and  departed;  but  the  subject  of 
Raymond  and  Sabina  was  not  destined  to  slumber,  for 
now  he  met  Raymond  on  his  way  to  North  Hill  House. 

He  asked  him  to  come  into  tea  and,  to  his  surprise,  the 
young  man  refused. 

"  That  means  Sabina  isn't  at  home  then,"  said  Mr. 
Churchouse  blandly. 

"  I  don't  know  where  she  is." 

At  this  challenge  Ernest  spoke  and  struck  into  the  mat- 
ter very  directly.  He  blamed  Raymond  and  feared  that 
his  course  of  action  was  not  that  of  a  gentleman. 


IN  THE  FOREMAN'S  GARDEN     121 

"  You  would  be  the  very  first  to  protest  and  criticise  un- 
favourably, my  dear  boy,  if  you  saw  anybody  else  treating 
a  girl  in  this  fashion,"  he  concluded. 

"  I'm  going  to  clear  it  up,"  answered  the  culprit. 
"  Don't  you  worry.  These  things  can't  be  done  in  a 
minute.  This  infernal  place  is  always  so  quick  to  think 
evil,  apparently,  and  judges  decent  people  by  its  own  dirty 
opinions.  I've  asked  Daniel  to  give  me  a  holiday,  so  that 
I  may  go  away  and  think  over  life  in  general.  And  he 
won't  give  me  a  holiday.  It's  very  clear  to  me,  Uncle 
Ernest,  that  no  self-respecting  man  would  be  able  to  work 
under  Daniel  for  long.  Things  are  coming  to  a  climax.  I 
doubt  if  I  shall  be  able  to  keep  on  here." 

"  You  evade  the  subject,  which  is  your  friendship  with 
Sabina,  Raymond.  As  to  Daniel,  there  ought  to  be  no 
difficulty  whatever,  and  you  know  it  very  well  in  your 
heart  and  head.  Your  protest  deceives  nobody.  But 
Sabina?" 

Here  the  conversation  ceased  abruptly,  for  Raymond 
committed  an  unique  offence.  He  told  Mr.  Churchouse  to 
go  to  the  devil,  and  left  him,  standing  transfixed  with 
amazement,  at  the  outer  gate  of  '  The  Magnolias.' 

With  the  insult  to  himself  Ernest  was  not  much  con- 
cerned. His  regretful  astonishment  centred  in  the  spec- 
tacle of  Raymond's  downfall. 

"  To  what  confusion  and  disorder,  must  his  mind  have 
been  reduced,  before  he  could  permit  himself  such  a  lapse," 
reflected  Mr.  Churchouse. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    CONCERT 

THE  effect  of  Raymond's  attitude  on  Sabina's  mind  proved 
very  serious.  It  awoke  in  her  first  anger  and  then  dismay. 
She  was  a  woman  of  fine  feeling  and  quick  perception. 
Love  and  ambition  had  pointed  the  same  road,  and  the 
hero,  being,  as  it  seemed,  without  guile,  had  convinced  her 
that  she  might  believe  every  word  that  he  spoke  and  trust 
everything  that  he  did.  She  had  never  contemplated  any 
sacrifice  before  marriage,  and,  indeed,  when  it  came,  the 
consummation  of  their  worship  proved  no  sacrifice  to  her, 
but  an  added  joy.  Less  than  many  a  married  woman  had 
she  mourned  the  surrender,  for  in  her  eyes  it  made  all 
things  complete  between  them  and  bound  them  inseparably 
with  the  golden  links  of  love  and  honour. 

When,  therefore,  upon  this  perfect  union,  sinister  light 
from  without  had  broken,  she  felt  it  no  great  thing  to  ask 
Raymond  that  their  betrothal  should  be  known.  Reason 
and  justice  demanded  it.  She  did  not  for  an  instant  sup- 
pose that  he  would  hesitate,  but  rather  expected  him  to 
blame  his  own  blindness  in  delay.  But  finding  he  desired 
further  postponement,  she  was  struck  with  consternation 
that  rose  to  wrath;  and  when  he  persisted,  she  became 
alarmed  and  now  only  considered  what  best  she  might  do 
for  her  own  sake.  Her  work  suffered  and  her  friends  per- 
ceived that  all  was  not  well  with  her.  With  the  shortening 
days  and  bad  weather,  the  meetings  with  Raymond  became 
more  difficult  to  pursue  and  she  saw  less  of  him.  They 
had  patched  their  quarrel  and  were  friendly  enough,  but 
the  perfect  understanding  had  departed.  They  preserved 

122 


THE  CONCERT  123 

a  common  ground  and  she  did  not  mention  subjects  likely 
to  annoy  him.  He  appeared  to  be  working  steadily,  sel- 
dom came  into  the  shops  and  was  more  reserved  to  every- 
body in  the  Mill. 

Sabina  had  not  yet  spoken  to  her  mother,  though  many 
times  tempted  to  do  so.  Her  loyalty  proved  strong  in  the 
time  of  trial;  but  the  greater  the  strain  on  herself,  the 
greater  the  strain  on  her  love  for  the  man.  She  told  her- 
self that  no  such  cruel  imposition  should  have  been  placed 
upon  her ;  and  she  could  not  fail  closely  to  question  the  need 
for  it.  Why  did  Raymond  demand  continued  silence  even 
in  the  face  of  offences  put  upon  her  by  her  neighbours? 
How  could  he  endure  to  hear  that  people  had  been  rude  to 
her,  and  uttered  coarse  jests  in  her  hearing  aimed  only  at 
her  ear?  Would  a  man  who  loved  her,  as  she  deserved  to 
be  loved,  suffer  this  ?  Then  fear  grew.  With  her  he  was 
always  kind  —  kind  and  considerate  in  every  matter  but 
the  vital  matter.  Yet  there  were  differences.  The  future, 
in  which  he  had  delighted  to  revel,  bored  him  now,  and 
when  she  spoke  of  it,  he  let  the  matter  drop.  He  was  on 
good  terms  with  his  brother  for  the  moment,  and  appeared 
to  be  winning  an  increasing  interest  in  his  business  to  the 
exclusion  of  other  affairs.  He  would  become  animated  on 
the  subject  of  Sabina's  work,  rather  than  the  subject  of 
Sabina.  He  stabbed  her  unconsciously  with  many  little 
shafts  of  speech,  yet  Joiew  not  that  he  was  doing  so.  He 
grew  more  grave  and  self-controlled  in  their  relations. 
Her  personal  touch  began  to  lose  power  and  waken  his 
answering  fire  less  often.  It  was  then  that  she  found  her- 
self with  child,  and  knowing  that  despite  much  to  cause 
concern,  Raymond  was  still  himself,  she  rejoiced,  since  this 
fact  must  terminate  his  wavering  and  establish  her  future. 
Here  at  least  was  an  event  beyond  his  power  to  evade. 
He  loved  her  and  had  promised  to  wed  her.  He  was  a 
man  who  might  be  weak,  but  had  never  explicitly  behaved 
in  a  manner  to  make  her  tremble  for  such  a  situation  as  the 
present.  Procrastination  ceased  to  be  possible.  What 


THE  SPINNERS 

now  had  happened  must  demand  instant  recognition  of 
her  rights,  and  that  given,  she  assured  herself  the  future 
held  no  terrors.  Now  he  must  marry  her,  or  contradict 
his  own  record  as  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  honour. 

Yet  she  told  him  with  a  tremor  and,  until  the  last  mo- 
ment, could  not  banish  from  her  heart  the  shadow  of  fear. 
He  had  never  spoken  of  this  possibility,  or  taken  it  into 
account,  and  she  felt,  seeing  his  silence,  that  it  would  be 
a  shock. 

The  news  came  to  him  as  they  walked  from  the  Mill  on  a 
Saturday  when  the  works  closed  at  noon.  He  was  on  his 
way  to  Bridport  and  she  went  beside  him  for  a  mile  through 
the  lanes. 

For  a  moment  he  said  nothing,  then,  seeing  the  road 
empty,  he  put  his  arms  round  her  and  kissed  her. 

"  You  clever  girl !  "  he  said. 

"  Don't  tell  me  you're  sorry,  for  God's  sake,  or  I  shall 
go  and  drown  myself,"  she  answered.  Her  face  was  anx- 
ious and  she  looked  haggard  in  the  cold  light  of  a  sunless, 
winter  day.  But  a  genuine,  generous  emotion  had  touched 
him,  and  with  it  woke  pangs  of  remorse  and  contrition. 
He  knew  very  well  what  she  had  been  suffering  mentally 
on  his  account,  and  he  knew  that  the  frightened  voice  in 
which  she  told  him  the  news  and  the  trembling  mouth  and 
the  tear  in  her  eyes  ought  not  to  have  been  there.  Every 
fine  feeling  in  the  man  and  every  honest  instinct  was 
aroused.  For  the  moment  he  felt  glad  that  no  further  de- 
lay was  possible.  His  self-respect  had  already  suffered ; 
but  now  life  offered  him  swift  means  to  regain  it.  He  did 
not,  however,  think  of  himself  while  his  arms  were  round 
her;  he  thought  of  her  and  her  only,  while  they  remained 
together. 

"  '  Sorry  '?  "  he  said.  "  Can  you  think  I'm  sorry?  I'm 
only  sorry  that  I  didn't  do  something  sooner  and  marry 
you  before  this  happened,  Sabina.  Good  Lord  —  it 
throws  a  lot  of  light.  I  swear  it  does.  I'm  glad  —  I'm 
honestly  glad  —  and  you  must  be  glad  and  proud  and 


THE  CONCERT  1«6 

happy  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  We'll  be  married  in  a  month. 
And  you  must  tell  your  mother  we're  engaged  to-day ;  and 
I'll  tell  my  people.  Don't  you  worry.  Damn  me,  I've 
been  worrying  you  a  lot  lately ;  but  it  was  only  because  I 
couldn't  see  straight.  Now  I  do  and  I'll  soon  atone." 

She  wept  with  thankful  heart  and  begged  him  to  turn 
with  her  and  tell  Mrs.  Dinnett  himself.  But  that  he  would 
not  do. 

"  It  will  save  time  if  I  go  on  to  Bridport  and  let  Aunt 
Jenny  hear  about  it.  Of  course  the  youngster  is  our 
affair  and  nobody  need  know  about  that.  But  we  must  be 
married  in  a  j  iffey  and  —  you  must  give  notice  at  the  mill 
to-day.  Go  back  now  and  tell  Best." 

"  How  wonderful  you  are !  "  she  said.  "  And  yet  I 
feared  you  might  be  savage  about  it." 

"  More  shame  to  me  that  you  should  have  feared  it,"  he 
answered ;  "  for  that  means  that  I  haven't  been  sporting. 
But  you  shall  never  be  frightened  of  me  again,  Sabina. 
To  see  you  frightened  hurts  me  like  hell.  If  ever  you  are 
again,  it  will  be  your  fault,  not  mine." 

She  left  him  very  happy  and  a  great  cloud  seemed  to  fall 
off  her  life  as  she  returned  to  the  village.  She  blamed 
herself  for  ever  doubting  him.  Her  love  rose  from  its 
smothered  fires.  She  soared  to  great  heights  and  dreamed 
of  doing  mighty  things  for  Raymond.  Straight  home  to 
her  mother  she  went  and  told  Mrs.  Dinnett  of  her  engage- 
ment and  swiftly  approaching  marriage.  The  light  had 
broken  on  her  darkness  at  last  and  she  welcomed  the  child 
as  a  blessed  forerunner  of  good.  The  coming  life  had 
already  made  her  love  it. 

Meantime  Raymond  preserved  his  cheerful  spirit  for  a 
season.  But  existence  never  looked  the  same  out  of 
Sabina's  presence  and  before  he  had  reached  Bridport,  his 
mood  changed.  He  recognised  very  acutely  his  duty  and 
not  a  thought  stirred  in  him  to  escape  it ;  but  what  for  a 
little  while  had  appeared  more  than  duty  and  promised 
to  end  mean  doubts  and  fears  for  ever,  began  now  to  pre- 


126  THE  SPINNERS 

sent  itself  under  other  aspects.  The  joy  of  a  child  and  a 
wife  and  a  home  faded.  For  what  sort  of  a  home  could 
he  establish?  He  leaned  to  the  hope  that  Daniel  might 
prove  generous  under  the  circumstances  and  believed  that 
his  aunt  might  throw  her  weight  on  his  side  and  urge  his 
brother  to  make  adequate  provision;  but  these  reflections 
galled  him  unspeakably,  for  they  were  sordid.  They 
argued  weakness  in  him.  He  must  come  as  a  beggar  and 
eat  humble  pie ;  he  must  for  ever  sacrifice  his  independence 
and,  with  it,  everything  that  had  made  life  worth  living. 
The  more  he  thought  upon  it,  the  more  he  began  to  hate 
the  necessity  of  taking  this  story  to  his  relations.  Better 
men  than  he  had  lived  in  poverty  and  risen  from  humble 
beginnings.  It  struck  him  that  if  he  went  his  own  way, 
redoubled  his  official  energies  and  asked  for  nothing  more 
on  the  strength  of  his  marriage,  his  own  self-respect  would 
be  preserved  as  well  as  the  respect  of  his  aunt  and  brother. 
He  pictured  himself  as  a  hero,  yet  knew  that  what  he  con- 
templated was  merely  the  conduct  of  an  honest  man. 

The  thought  of  approaching  anybody  with  his  intentions 
grew  more  distasteful,  and  by  the  time  he  reached  Brid- 
port,  he  had  determined  not  to  mention  the  matter,  at  any 
rate  until  the  following  day.  So  great  a  thing  demanded 
more  consideration  than  he  could  give  it  for  the  moment, 
because  his  whole  future  depended  on  the  manner  in  which 
he  broke  it  to  his  people.  It  was  true  that  the  circum- 
stances admitted  of  no  serious  delay;  Sabina  must,  of 
course,  be  considered  before  everything;  but  twenty-four 
hours  would  make  no  difference  to  her,  while  it  might 
make  all  the  difference  to  him. 

He  reduced  the  courses  of  action  to  two.  Either  he 
would  announce  that  he  was  going  to  be  married  imme- 
diately as  a  fact  accomplished ;  or  he  would  invite  his  aunt's 
sympathies,  use  diplomacy  and  win  her  to  his  side  with  a 
view  to  approaching  Daniel.  Daniel  appeared  the  danger, 
because  it  was  quite  certain  that  he  would  strongly  disap- 
prove of  Raymond's  marriage.  This  certainty  induced 


THE  CONCERT  127 

another  element  of  doubt.  For  suppose,  far  from  seeking 
to  help  Raymond  with  his  new  responsibilities,  Daniel  took 
the  opposite  course  and  threatened  to  punish  him  for  any 
such  stupidity?  Suppose  that  his  brother,  from  a  per- 
sonal standpoint,  objected  and  backed  his  objection  with  a 
definite  assurance  that  Raymond  must  leave  the  mill  if  he 
took  this  step  ?  The  only  way  out  of  that  would  be  to  tell 
Daniel  that  he  was  compromised  and  must  wed  Sabina  for 
honour.  But  Raymond  felt  that  he  would  rather  die  than 
make  any  such  confession.  His  whole  soul  rose  with  loath- 
ing at  the  thought  of  telling  the  truth  to  one  so  frozen  and 
unsympathetic.  Moreover  there  was  not  only  himself  to 
be  considered,  but  Sabina.  What  chance  would  she  have 
of  ever  winning  Daniel  to  acknowledge  and  respect  her  if 
the  facts  came  to  his  ears? 

Raymond  thought  himself  into  a  tangle  and  found  a 
spirit  of  great  depression  settling  upon  him.  But,  at  last, 
he  decided  to  sleep  on  the  situation.  He  did  not  go  home, 
but  turned  his  steps  to  '  The  Tiger,'  ate  his  luncheon  and 
drank  heartily  with  it. 

Then  he  went  to  see  a  boxer,  who  was  training  with  Mr. 
Gurd,  and  presently  when  Neddy  Motyer  appeared,  he 
turned  into  the  billiard  room  and  there  killed  some  hours 
before  the  time  of  the  smoking  concert. 

He  imbibed  the  intensely  male  atmosphere  of  *  The 
Tiger '  with  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction ;  but  surging  up 
into  the  forefront  of  his  mind  came  every  moment  the  truth 
concerning  himself  and  his  future.  It  made  him  bitter. 
For  some  reason  he  could  not  guess,  he  found  himself  play- 
ing billiards  very  much  above  his  form.  Neddy  was  full 
of  admiration. 

"  By  Jove,  you've  come  on  thirty  in  a  hundred,"  he  said. 
"  If  you  only  gave  a  fair  amount  of  time  to  it,  you'd  soon 
beat  anybody  here  but  Waldron." 

"  My  sporting  days  are  practically  over,"  answered 
Raymond.  "  I've  got  to  face  real  life  now,  and  as  soon  as 
you  begin  to  do  that,  you  find  sport  sinks  under  the  horizon 


128  THE  SPINNERS 

a  bit.     I  thought  I  should  miss  it  a  lot,  but  I  shan't." 

"  If  anybody  else  said  that,  I  should  think  it  was  the  fox 
who  had  lost  his  brush  talking,"  replied  Neddy ;  "  but  I 
suppose  you  mean  it.  Only  you'll  find,  if  you  chuck  sport, 
you'll  soon  be  no  good.  Even  as  it  is,  going  into  the 
works  has  put  you  back  a  lot.  I  doubt  if  you  could  do  a 
hundred  in  eleven  seconds  now." 

"  There  are  more  important  things  than  doing  a  hundred 
in  eleven  seconds  —  or  even  time,  either,  for  that  matter." 

"  You  won't  chuck  football,  anyway  ?  You'll  be  fast 
enough  for  outside  right  for  years  yet  if  you  watch  your- 
self." 

"  Damned  easy  to  say  '  watch  yourself.'  Yes,  I  shall 
play  footer  a  bit  longer  if  they  want  me,  I  suppose." 

Arthur  Waldron  dropped  in  a  few  minutes  later. 

He  was  glad  to  see  Raymond. 

"  Good,"  he  said.  "  I  thought  yon  were  putting  in  a 
blameless  evening  with  your  people." 

"  No,  I'm  putting  in  a  blameless  evening  here." 

"  He's  playing  enormous  billiards,  Waldron,"  declared 
Motyer.  "  I  suppose  you've  been  keeping  him  at  it.  He's 
come  on  miles." 

"  He  didn't  learn  with  me,  anyway.  It's  not  once  in  a 
blue  moon  that  he  plays  at  North  Hill.  But  if  he's  come 
on,  so  much  the  better." 

They  played,  but  Raymond's  form  had  deserted  him. 
Waldron  was  much  better  than  the  average  amateur  and 
now  he  gave  Raymond  fifty  in  two  hundred  and  beat  him 
by  as  much.  They  dined  together  presently,  and  Job 
Legg,  who  often  lent  a  hand  at  '  The  Tiger '  on  moments 
of  extra  pressure,  waited  upon  them. 

"  How's  your  uncle,  Job?  "  asked  Arthur  Waldron,  who 
was  familiar  with  Mr.  Legg,  and  not  seldom  visited  '  The 
Seven  Stars,'  when  Estelle  came  with  him  to  Bridport. 

"  He's  a  goner,  sir.     I'm  off  to  the  funeral  on  Monday." 

"  Hope  the  will  was  all  right  ?  " 

"  Quite  all  right,  sir,  thank  you,  sir." 


THE  CONCERT  129 

"  Then  you'll  leave,  no  doubt,  and  what  will  Missis 
Northover  do  then?  " 

Legg  smiled. 

"  It's  hid  in  the  future,  sir,"  he  answered. 

A  comedian,  who  was  going  to  perform  at  the  smoking 
concert,  came  in  with  Mr.  Gurd,  and  the  innkeeper  intro- 
duced him  to  Neddy  and  Raymond.  He  joined  them  and 
added  an  element  of  great  hilarity  to  the  meal.  He 
abounded  in  good  stories,  and  understood  horse-racing  as 
well  as  Neddy  Motyer  himself.  Neddy  now  called  himself 
a  *  gentleman  backer,'  but  admitted  that,  so  far,  it  had  not 
proved  a  lucrative  profession. 

Their  talk  ranged  over  sport  and  athletics.  They 
buzzed  one  against  the  other,  and  not  even  the  humour  of 
the  comic  man  was  proof  against  the  seriousness  of  Arthur 
Waldron,  who  demonstrated,  as  always,  that  England's 
greatness  had  sprung  from  the  pursuit  of  masculine  pas- 
times. The  breed  of  horses  and  the  breed  of  men  alike 
depended  upon  sport.  The  Empire,  in  Mr.  Waldron's 
judgment,  had  arisen  from  this  sublime  foundation. 

"  It  reaches  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,"  he  de- 
clared. "  The  puppy  that  plays  most  is  the  one  that 
always  turns  into  the  best  dog." 

The  smoking  concert,  held  in  Mr.  Gurd's  large  dining- 
room,  went  the  way  of  such  things  with  complete  success. 
The  boxing  was  of  the  best,  and  the  local  lad,  Tim  Chick, 
performed  with  credit  against  his  experienced  antagonist. 
All  the  comic  man's  songs  aimed  at  the  folly  of  marriage 
and  the  horrors  of  domesticity.  He  seemed  to  be  singing 
at  Raymond,  who  roared  with  the  rest  and  hated  the 
humourist  all  the  time.  The  young  man  grew  uneasy  and 
morose  before  the  finish,  drank  too  much  whiskey,  and  felt 
glad  to  get  into  the  cold  night  air  when  all  was  over. 

And  then  there  happened  to  him  a  challenge  very  unex- 
pected, for  Waldron,  as  they  walked  back  together  through 
the  night-hidden  lanes,  chose  the  opportunity  to  speak  of 
Raymond's  private  affairs. 


130  THE  SPINNERS 

"  You  can't  accuse  me  of  wanting  to  stick  my  nose  into 
other  people's  business,  can  you,  Ray?  And  you  can't 
fairly  say  that  you've  ever  found  me  taking  too  much  upon 
myself  or  anything  of  that  sort." 

"  No ;  you're  unique  in  that  respect." 

"  Well,  then,  you  mustn't  be  savage  if  I'm  personal. 
You  know  me  jolly  well  and  you  know  that  you're  about  the 
closest  friend  I've  got.  And  if  you  weren't  a  friend  and  a 
great  deal  to  me,  I  shouldn't  speak." 

"  Go  ahead  —  I  can  guess.  There's  only  one  topic  in 
Bridetown,  apparently.  No  doubt  you've  seen  me  in  the 
company  of  Sabina  Dinnett?  " 

"  I  haven't,  I  can  honestly  say.  But  Estelle  is  very 
keen  about  the  mill  girls.  She  wants  to  do  all  sorts  of  fine 
things  for  them ;  and  she's  specially  friendly  with  Missis 
Dinnett's  daughter.  And  she's  heard  things  that  puzzled 
her  young  ears  naturally,  and  she  told  me  that  some  peo- 
ple say  you're  being  too  kind  to  Sabina  and  other  people 
say  you're  treating  her  hardly.  Of  course,  that  puzzled 
Estelle,  clever  though  she  is ;  but,  as  a  man  of  the  world, 
I  saw  what  it  meant  and  that  kindness  may  really  be 
cruelty  in  the  long  run.  You'll  forgive  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  chap.  If  one  lives  in  a  hole  like 
Bridetown,  one  must  expect  one's  affairs  to  be  common 
property." 

"  And  if  they  are,  what  does  it  matter  as  long  as  they 
are  all  straightforward  ?  I  never  care  a  button  what  any- 
body says  about  me,  because  I  know  they  can't  say  any- 
thing true  that  is  up  against  me ;  and  as  to  lies,  they  don't 
matter." 

"  And  d'you  think  I  care  what  they  say  about  me?  " 

"  Rather  not.  Only  if  a  girl  is  involved,  then  the  case 
is  altered.  I'm  not  a  saint ;  but " 

"  When  anybody  says  they're  not  a  saint,  you  know 
they're  going  to  begin  to  preach,  Arthur." 

Waldron  did  not  answer  for  a  minute.  He  stopped  and 
lighted  his  pipe.  To  Raymond,  Sabina  appeared  unmeas- 


THE  CONCERT  131 

urably  distant  at  this  midnight  hour.  His  volatile  mind 
was  quick  to  take  colour  from  the  last  experience,  and  in 
the  aura  of  the  smoking  concert,  woman  looked  a  slight  and 
inferior  thing;  marriage,  a  folly;  domestic  life,  a  jest. 

Waldron  spoke  again. 

"  You  won't  catch  me  preaching.  I  only  venture  to  say 
that  in  a  little  place  like  this,  it's  a  mistake  to  be  identified 
with  a  girl  beneath  you  in  every  way.  It  won't  hurt  you, 
and  if  she  was  a  common  girl  and  given  to  playing  abdut, 
it  wouldn't  hurt  her ;  but  the  Dinnetts  are  different.  How- 
ever, you  know  a  great  deal  more  about  her  than  I  do,  and 
if  you  tell  me  she's  not  all  she  seems  and  you're  not  the 
first  and  won't  be  the  last,  then,  of  course  I'm  wrong  and 
enough  said.  But  if  she's  all  right  and  all  she's  thought 
to  be,  and  all  Estelle  thinks  her  —  for  Estelle's  a  jolly  good 
student  of  character  —  then,  frankly,  I  don't  think  it's 
sporting  of  you  to  do  what  you're  doing." 

The  word  '  sporting '  summed  the  situation  from  Wal- 
dron's  point  of  view  and  he  said  no  more. 

Raymond  grew  milder. 

"  She's  all  Estelle  thinks  her.  I  have  a  great  admira- 
tion for  her.  She's  amazingly  clever  and  refined.  In  fact, 
I  never  saw  any  girl  a  patch  on  her  in  my  life." 

"  Well  then,  what  follows  ?  Surely  she  ought  to  be  re- 
spected in  every  way." 

"  I  do  respect  her." 

"  Then  it's  up  to  you  to  treat  her  as  you'd  treat  any- 
body of  your  own  class,  and  take  care  that  nothing  you  do 
throws  any  shadow  on  her.  And,  of  course,  you  know  it. 
I'm  not  suggesting  for  a  second  you  don't.  I'm  only  sug- 
gesting that  what  would  be  quite  all  right  with  a  girl  in 
your  own  set,  isn't  exactly  fair  to  Sabina  —  her  position 
in  the  world  being  what  it  is." 

It  was  on  Raymond's  tongue  to  declare  his  engagement ; 
but  he  did  not.  He  had  banished  Sabina  for  that  night 
and  the  subject  irked  him.  The  justice  of  Waldron's 
criticism  also  irked  him ;  but  he  acknowledged  it. 


132  THE  SPINNERS 

"Thank  you,"  he  answered.  "  It's  jolly  good  of  you 
to  say  these  things,  Arthur,  because  they're  not  in  your 
line,  and  I  know  you  hate  them.  But  you're  dead  right. 
I  dare  say  I'll  tell  you  something  that  will  astonish  you 
before  long.  But  I'm  not  doing  anything  to  be  ashamed 
of.  I  haven't  made  any  mistake ;  and  if  I  had,  I  shouldn't 
shirk  the  payment." 

"  You  can't,  my  dear  chap.  A  mistake  has  always  got 
to  be  paid  for  in  full  —  often  with  interest  added.  As  a 
sportsman  you  know  that,  and  it  holds  all  through  life  in 
my  experience." 

"  I  shan't  make  one.  But  if  I  do,  I'm  quite  prepared  to 
pay  the  cost." 

"  We  all  say  that  till  the  bill  comes  along.  Better  avoid 
the  mistake,  and  I'm  glad  you're  going  to." 

Far  away  from  the  scrub  on  North  Hill  came  a  sharp, 
weird  sound. 

"  Hark  !  "  said  Waldron.  "  That's  a  dog  fox !  I  hope 
the  beggar's  caught  a  rabbit." 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    VISIT    TO    MISS    IRONSYDE 

ON  the  following  day  Raymond  did  not  appear  at  break- 
fast, and  Estelle  wondered  at  so  strange  an  event. 

"  He's  going  for  a  long  walk  with  me  this  afternoon," 
she  told  her  father.  "  It's  a  promise ;  we're  going  all  the 
way  to  Chilcombe,  for  me  to  show  him  that  dear  little 
chapel  and  the  wonderful  curiosity  in  it." 

"  Not  much  in  his  line,  but  if  he  said  he'll  go,  he'll  go, 
no  doubt,"  answered  her  father. 

They  went  to  church  together  presently,  for  Waldron 
observed  Sunday.  He  held  no  definite  religious  opinions ; 
but  inclined  to  a  vague  idea  that  it  was  seemly  to  go,  be- 
cause it  set  a  good  example  and  increased  your  authority. 
Pie  believed  that  church-going  was  a  source  of  good  to  the 
proletariat,  and  though  he  did  not  himself  accept  the  doc- 
trine of  eternal  punishment,  since  it  violated  all  sporting 
tenets,  he  was  inclined  to  think  that  acceptation  of  the 
threat  kept  ignorant  people  straight  and  made  them  better 
members  of  society.  He  held  that  the  parson  and  squire 
must  combine  in  this  matter  and  continue  to  claim  and  en- 
force, as  far  as  possible,  a  beneficent  autocracy  in  thorpe 
and  hamlet;  and  he  perceived  that  religion  was  the  only 
remaining  force  which  upheld  their  sway.  That  super- 
natural control  was  crumbling  under  the  influences  of  edu- 
cation he  also  recognised ;  but  did  his  best  to  stem  the 
tide,  and  trusted  that  the  old  dispensation  would  at  least 
last  out  his  time. 

On  returning  from  worship  they  found  Raymond  in  the 
garden,  and  when  Estelle  reminded  him  of  his  promise,  he 
agreed  and  declared  that  he  looked  forward  to  the  tramp. 
He  was  cheerful  and  apparently  welcomed  Estelle's  pro- 

133 


134-  THE  SPINNERS 

gramme,  but  there  happened  that  which  threatened  to  in- 
terfere with  it. 

Waldron  had  retired  to  his  study  and  a  new  book  on 
'  The  Fox  Terrier,'  which  he  reserved  for  Sabbath  reading, 
and  Estelle  and  Raymond  were  just  setting  out  for  Chil- 
combe  when  there  came  Sabina.  She  had  called  to  see  her 
lover  and  entered  the  garden  in  time  to  stop  him.  She  had 
never  openly  asked  to  see  him  in  this  manner  before,  and 
Raymond  was  quick  to  mark  the  significance  of  the  change. 
It  annoyed  him,  while  inwardly  he  recognised  its  reason- 
ableness. He  turned  and  shook  hands  with  her,  and 
Estelle  did  the  same. 

"  We're  just  starting  for  Chilcombe,"  she  said. 

Sabina  looked  her  surprise.  She  had  been  expecting 
Raymond  all  the  morning,  to  bring  the  great  news  to 
Ernest  Churchouse,  and  was  puzzled  to  know  why  he  had 
not  come.  She  could  not  wait  longer,  and  while  her  mother 
advised  delay,  found  herself  unable  to  delay. 

Now  she  perceived  that  Raymond  had  made  plans  inde- 
pendently of  her. 

"  I  was  coming  in  this  evening,"  he  said,  in  answer  to 
her  eyes. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  a  moment  before  you  start  with 
Miss  Waldron?  "  she  asked,  and  together  they  strolled  into 
Estelle's  rose  garden  where  still  a  poor  blossom  or  two 
crowned  naked  sprays. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  began  the  girl.  "  Surely  — 
surely  after  yesterday?  " 

"  I'd  promised  to  go  for  this  walk  with  her." 

"What  then?  Wasn't  there  all  the  morning?  My 
mother  and  I  didn't  go  to  church  —  expecting  you  every 
minute." 

"  You  must  keep  your  nerve,  Sabina  —  both  of  us  must. 
You  mustn't  be  hysterical  about  it." 

She  perceived  how  mightily  his  mood  had  changed  since 
their  leave-taking  of  the  day  before. 


A  VISIT  TO  MISS  IRONSYDE     135 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  she  asked.  "  I  suppose  your 
people  have  not  taken  this  well." 

"  They  don't  know  yet  —  nobody  does." 

"  You  didn't  tell  them?  " 

"  Things  prevented  it.  We  must  choose  the  right  mo- 
ment to  spring  this.  It's  bound  to  knock  them  over  for  a 
minute.  I'm  thinking  it  all  out.  Probably  you  don't 
quite  realise,  Sabina,  what  this  means  from  their  point  of 
view.  The  first  thing  is  to  get  my  aunt  on  my  side; 
Daniel's  hopeless,  of  course." 

She  stared  at  him. 

"What  in  God's  name  has  come  over  you?  You  talk 
as  though  you  hadn't  a  drop  of  blood  in  your  veins.  Were 
you  deaf  yesterday?  Didn't  you  hear  me  tell  you  I  was 
with  child  by  you?  '  Their  point  of  view  ' !  What  about 
my  point  of  view  ?  " 

"  Don't  get  excited,  my  dear  girl.  Do  give  me  credit 
for  some  sense.  This  is  a  very  ticklish  business,  and  the 
whole  of  our  future  —  yours,  of  course,  quite  as  much  as 
mine  —  will  depend  on  what  I  do  during  the  next  few  days. 
Do  try  to  realise  that.  If  I  make  a  mistake  now,  we  may 
repent  it  for  fifty  years." 

"What  d'you  call  making  a  mistake?  What  choice  of 
action  have  you  got  if  you're  a  gentleman  ?  It  kills  me  — 
kills  me  to  hear  you  talking  about  making  a  mistake ;  and 
your  hard  voice  means  that  you  think  you've  made  one. 
What  have  I  done  but  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul? 
What  have  I  ever  done  to  make  you  put  other  people's 
points  of  view  before  mine?  " 

"  I'm  not  —  I'm  not,  Sabina." 

"  You  are.  You  used  to  understand  me  so  well  and 
know  what  was  in  my  mind  before  I  spoke,  and  now  —  now 
before  this  —  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world  for  me  • — 
you " 

"  Talk  quietly,  for  goodness'  sake.  You  don't  want  all 
Bridetown  to  hear  us." 


136  THE  SPINNERS 

"  You  can  say  that  ?  And  you  go  out  walking  with  a 
child  and " 

"  Look  here,  Sabina,  you  must  pull  yourself  together,  or 
else  you  stand  a  very  good  chance  of  bitching  up  our  show 
altogether,"  he  answered  calmly.  "  This  thing  has  got  to 
be  carried  out  by  me,  not  you ;  and  if  you  are  not  going 
to  let  me  do  it  my  own  way,  then  so  much  the  worse  for 
both  of  us.  I  won't  be  dictated  to  by  you,  or  anybody, 
and  if  you're  not  contented  to  believe  in  me,  then  I  can  only 
say  you're  making  a  big  mistake  and  you'll  very  soon  find 
it  out." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  then?  "  she  asked,  "  and 
when  are  you  going  to  do  it?  I've  a  right  to  know  that, 
I  suppose?  " 

"  To  think  you  can  talk  in  that  tone  of  voice  to  me  —  to 
me  of  all  people !  " 

"  To  think  you  can  force  me  to !  And  now  you'll  say 
you've  seen  things  in  me  you  never  thought  were  there,  and 
turn  it  over  in  your  mind  —  and  —  and  oh,  it's  cowardly 
—  it's  cruel.  And  you  call  yourself  an  honourable  man 
and  could  tell  me  and  swear  to  me  only  yesterday  that  I 
was  more  to  you  than  anything  else  in  the  world !  " 

"  D'you  know  what  you're  doing?  "  he  asked.  "  D'you 
want  to  make  me  —  there  —  I  won't  speak  it  —  I  won't 
come  down  to  your  level  and  forget  myself  and  say  things 
that  I'd  break  my  heart  to  think  of  afterwards.  I  must 
go  now,  or  that  girl  will  be  wondering  what  the  deuce  has 
happened.  She's  told  her  father  already  that  you  weren't 
happy  or  something;  so  I  suppose  you  must  have  been 
talking.  I'll  come  in  this  evening.  You'd  better  go  home 
now  as  quick  as  you  can." 

He  left  her  abruptly  and  she  sat  down  shaking  on  a 
stone  seat,  to  prevent  herself  from  falling.  Grief  and 
terror  shared  her  spirit.  She  watched  him  hurry  away 
and,  after  he  was  gone,  arose  to  find  her  legs  trembling 
under  her.  She  went  home  slowly ;  then  thoughts  came  to 
her  which  restored  her  physical  strength.  Her  anger  gave 


A  VISIT  TO  MISS  IRONSYDE     137 

place  to  fear  and  her  fear  beckoned  her  to  confide  in 
somebody  with  greater  power  over  Raymond  than  her 
own. 

She  returned  to  her  mother,  described  her  repulse  and 
then  declared  her  intention  of  going  immediately  to  see 
Miss  Ironsyde.  She  concentrated  her  thoughts  on  the 
lady,  of  whom  Raymond  had  often  spoken  with  admiration 
and  respect.  She  argued  with  herself  that  his  aunt  would 
only  have  to  hear  her  story  to  take  her  side ;  she  told  her- 
self and  her  mother  that  since  Raymond  had  feared  to  ap- 
proach his  aunt,  Sabina  might  most  reasonably  do  so. 
She  grew  calm  and  convinced  herself  that  not  only  might 
she  do  this,  but  that  when  Raymond  heard  of  it,  he  would 
very  possibly  be  glad  that  the  necessity  of  confession  was 
escaped.  His  Aunt  Jenny  was  very  fond  of  him,  and  would 
forgive  him  and  help  him  to  do  right.  Sabina  found  her- 
self stronger  than  Raymond,  and  that  did  not  astonish  her, 
for  she  had  suspected  it  before. 

Her  mother,  now  in  tears,  agreed  with  her  and  she 
started  on  foot  for  Bridport,  walked  quickly,  and  within 
an  hour,  reached  the  dwelling  of  the  Ironsydes  — •  a  large 
house  standing  hidden  in  the  trees  above  the  town. 

Miss  Ironsyde  was  reading  and  looking  forward  to  her 
tea  when  Sabina  arrived.  She  had  heard  of  the  girl 
through  Ernest  Churchouse,  but  she  had  never  met  her 
and  did  not  connect  her  in  any  way  with  Raymond.  Jenny 
received  her  and  was  impressed  with  her  beauty,  for  Sabina, 
albeit  anxious  and  nervous,  looked  handsome  after  her 
quick  walk. 

"  I've  heard  of  you  from  your  mother  and  Mr.  Church- 
ouse," said  Miss  Ironsyde,  shaking  hands.  "  You  come 
from  him,  I  expect.  I  hope  he  is  well?  Sit  down  by  the 
fire." 

Her  kindly  manner  and  gentle  face  set  the  younger  at 
ease. 

"  He's  quite  well,  thank  you,  miss.  But  I'm  here  for 
myself,  not  him.  I'm  in  a  great  deal  of  terrible  anxiety, 


138  THE  SPINNERS 

and  you'll  excuse  me  for  coming,  I  do  hope,  when  I  explain 
why  I've  come.  It  was  understood  between  me  and  Mr. 
Raymond  Ironsyde  very  clearly  yesterday  that  he  was 
going  to  tell  you  about  it.  He  left  me  yesterday  to  do  so. 
But  I've  seen  him  to-day  and  I  find  he  never  came,  so  I 
thought  I  might  venture  to  come  even  though  it  was 
Sunday." 

"  The  better  the  day,  the  better  the  deed.  Something 
is  troubling  you.  Why  did  not  my  nephew  come,  if  he 
started  to  come?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     Indeed,  he  should  have  come." 

"  I'm  afraid  he  starts  to  do  a  great  many  things  he 
doesn't  carry  through,"  said  Jenny,  and  the  words,  lightly 
spoken,  fell  sinister  on  Sabina's  ear. 

"  There  are  some  things  a  man  must  carry  through  if 
he  starts  to  do  them,"  she  said  quietly,  and  her  tone  threw 
light  for  Raymond's  aunt.  She  grew  serious. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said.  "  I  know  my  nephew  very  well  and 
have  his  interests  greatly  at  heart.  He  is  somewhat  un- 
disciplined still  and  has  had  to  face  certain  difficulties  and 
problems,  not  much  in  themselves,  but  much  to  one  with  his 
temperament." 

Then  Sabina,  who  felt  that  she  might  be  fighting  for  her 
life,  set  out  to  tell  her  story.  She  proved  at  her  best  and 
spoke  well.  She  kept  her  temper  and  chose  her  words. 
The  things  that  she  had  thought  to  speak,  indeed,  escaped 
her,  but  her  artless  and  direct  narrative  did  not  fail  to 
convince  the  listener. 

"  You're  more  to  him  than  anybody  in  the  world,  but 
me,"  she  said ;  "  but  I'm  first,  Miss  Ironsyde.  I  must  be 
first  now.  Even  if  to-day  he  had  been  different  —  but 
what  seemed  so  near  yesterday  is  far  off  to-day.  He  was 
harsh  to-day.  He  terrified  me,  and  I  felt  you'd  think  no 
worse  of  me  than  you  must,  if  I  ventured  to  come.  I  don't 
ask  you  to  believe  anything  I  say  until  you  have  seen  him ; 
but  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you  anything  but  the  sacred 
truth.  Thanks  to  Mr.  Churchouse  I  was  well  educated, 


A  VISIT  TO  MISS  IRONSYDE     139 

and  he  took  kind  pains  to  teach  me  when  I  was  young  and 
helped  me  to  get  fond  of  books.  So  when  Mr.  Raymond 
came  to  the  Mill,  he  found  I  was  intelligent  and  well  ftian- 
nered.  And  he  fell  in  love  with  me  and  asked  me  to  marry 
him.  And  I  loved  him  very  dearly,  because  I  had  never 
seen  or  known  a  man  with  such  a  beautiful  face  and  mind. 
And  I  promised  to  marry  him.  He  wished  it  kept  secret 
and  we  loved  in  secret  and  had  great  joy  of  each  other  for 
a  long  time.  Then  people  began  to  talk  and  I  begged  him 
to  let  it  be  known  we  were  engaged ;  but  he  would  not.  And 
then  I  told  him  —  yesterday  —  that  it  must  be  known  and 
that  he  must  marry  me  as  quickly  as  he  could,  for  right 
and  honour.  And  he  seemed  very  glad  —  almost  thankful 
I  thought.  He  rejoiced  about  it  and  said  it  was  splendid 
news.  Then  he  left  me  to  come  straight  to  you  and  I  was 
happy  and  thankful.  But  to-day  I  went  to  see  him  and 
he  had  changed  and  was  rough  to  me  and  said  he  must 
choose  his  own  time !  This  to  me,  who  am  going  to  be 
mother  of  his  child  next  year!  I  nearly  fainted  when  he 
said  that.  He  told  me  to  go ;  and  I  went.  But  I  could 
not  sit  down  under  the  shock ;  I  had  to  do  something  and 
thought  of  you.  So  I  came  to  implore  you  to  be  on  my 
side  —  not  only  for  my  sake,  but  his.  It's  a  very  fearful 
thing  —  only  I  know  how  fearful,  because  I  know  all  he's 
said  and  promised ;  and  well  I  know  he  meant  every  word 
while  he  was  saying  it.  And  I  do  humbly  beg  you,  miss, 
for  love  of  him,  to  reason  with  him  and  hear  what  he's  got 
to  say.  And  if  he  says  a  word  that  contradicts  what  I've 
said,  then  I'll  be  content  for  you  to  believe  him  and  I'll 
trouble  you  no  more.  But  he  won't.  He'll  tell  you  every- 
thing I've  told  you.  He  couldn't  say  different,  for  he's 
truthful  and  straight.  And  if  it  was  anything  less  than 
the  whole  of  my  future  life  I  wouldn't  have  come.  But  I 
feel  there  are  things  hidden  in  his  mind  I  can't  fathom  — 
else  after  what  I  told  him  yesterday,  he  never,  never  could 
have  been  cruel  to  me,  or  changed  his  mind  about  coming  to 
see  you.  And  please  forgive  me  for  taking  up  your  time. 


140  THE  SPINNERS 

Only  knowing  that  you  cared  for  him  so  much  made  me 
come  to  you." 

Miss  Ironsyde  did  not  answer  immediately.  Her  intui- 
tion inclined  her  to  believe  every  word  at  its  face  value; 
but  her  very  readiness  to  do  so  made  her  cautious.  The 
story  was  one  of  every  day  and  bore  no  marks  of  improba- 
bility ;  yet  among  Raymond's  faults  she  could  not  remem- 
ber any  unreasonable  relations  with  the  other  sex.  It  had 
always  been  one  bright  spot  in  his  dead  father's  opinion 
that  the  young  man  did  not  care  about  drink  or  women, 
and  was  not  intemperate,  save  in  his  passion  for  athletic 
exercises  and  his  abomination  of  work.  It  required  no 
great  perception  to  see  that  Sabina  was  not  the  type  that 
entangles  men.  She  had  a  beautiful  face  and  a  comely 
figure,  but  she  belonged  not  to  the  illusive,  distracting  type. 
She  was  obvious  and  lacked  the  quality  which  attracts  men 
far  more  than  open  features,  regular  modelling  and  steady 
eyes.  It  was,  in  fact,  such  a  face  as  Raymond  might  have 
admired,  and  Sabina  was  such  a  girl  as  he  might  have  loved 
—  when  he  did  fall  in  love.  She  was  apparently  his  proto- 
type and  complement  in  directness  and  simplicity  of  out- 
look; that  Miss  Ironsyde  perceived,  and  the  more  she  re- 
flected the  less  she  felt  inclined  to  doubt. 

Sabina  readily  guessed  the  complex  thoughts  which  kept 
the  listener  silent  after  she  had  finished,  and  sat  quietly 
without  more  speech  until  Jenny  chose  to  answer  her. 
That  no  direct  antagonism  appeared  was  a  source  of  com- 
fort. Unconsciously  Sabina  felt  happier  for  the  presence 
of  the  other,  though  as  yet  she  had  heard  no  consoling 
word.  Miss  Ironsyde  regarded  her  thoughtfully ;  then  she 
rose  and  rang  the  bell.  Sabina's  heart  sank  for  she  sup- 
posed that  she  was  to  be  immediately  dismissed,  and  that 
meant  defeat  in  a  quarter  very  dangerous.  But  her  mind 
was  set  at  rest,  for  Jenny  saw  the  fear  in  her  eyes. 

"  I'm  ringing  for  tea,"  she  said.  "  I  will  ask  you  to 
stop  and  drink  a  cup  with  me.  You've  had  a  long  walk," 


A  VISIT  TO  MISS  IRONSYDE     141 

Then  came  tears ;  but  Sabina  felt  such  weakness  did  not 
become  her  and  smothered  them. 

"  Thank  you,  gratefully.  Miss  Ironsyde,"  she  said. 

Tea  was  a  silent  matter,  for  Jenny  had  very  little  to  say. 
Her  speech  was  just  and  kind,  however.  It  satisfied 
Sabina,  whose  only  concern  was  justice  now.  She  had 
spoken  first. 

"  I  think  —  I'm  sure  it's  only  some  hitch  in  Mr.  Ray- 
mond's mind.  He's  been  so  wonderful  to  me  —  so  tender 
and  thoughtful  —  and  he's  such  a  gentleman  in  all  he  does 
and  says,  that  I'm  sure  he  never  could  dream  of  going  back 
on  his  sacred  word.  He  wants  to  marry  me.  He'll  never 
tell  you  different  from  that.  But  he  cannot  realise,  per- 
haps, the  need  —  and  yet  I  won't  say  that  neither,  for,  of 
course,  he  must  realise." 

"  Say  nothing  more  at  all,"  answered  Jenny.  "  You 
have  said  everything  there  was  to  say  and  I'm  glad  you 
have  come  to  me  and  told  me  about  it.  But  I'm  not  going 
to  say  anything  myself  until  I've  seen  my  nephew.  You 
are  satisfied  that  he  will  tell  me  the  truth?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am.  Don't  think  I  don't  trust  him.  Only  if 
there's  something  hidden  from  me,  he  might  explain  to  you 
what  it  is,  and  what  I've  done  to  anger  him." 

Miss  Ironsyde  did  not  lack  experience  of  men  and  could 
have  thrown  light  on  Sabina's  problem ;  but  she  had  not  the 
heart.  She  began  to  suspect  it  was  the  girl's  own  compli- 
ance and  his  easy  victory  that  had  made  Raymond  weary 
before  the  reckoning.  There  is  nothing  more  tasteless 
than  paying  after  possession,  unless  the  factors  combine 
to  make  the  payment  a  pleasure  and  possession  an  undying 
delight.  Miss  Ironsyde  indeed  guessed  at  the  truth  more 
accurately  than  she  knew ;  but  her  sympathies  were  entirely 
with  Sabina  and  it  was  certain  that  if  Raymond,  when  the 
time  came,  could  offer  no  respectable  and  sufficient  excuse 
for  a  change  of  mind,  he  would  find  little  support  from 
her. 


THE  SPINNERS 

Of  her  intentions,  however,  she  said  nothing,  nor  indeed 
while  Sabina  drank  a  cup  of  tea  had  Miss  Ironsyde  any- 
thing to  say.  She  was  not  unsympathetic,  but  she  was 
guarded. 

"  I  will  see  Raymond  to-morrow  without  fail,"  she  said 
when  Sabina  departed.  "  I  share  your  belief,  Miss  Din- 
nett,  that  he  is  a  truthful  and  straightforward  man.  At 
least  I  have  always  found  him  so.  And  I  feel  very  sure 
that  you  are  truthful  and  straightforward  too.  This  will 
come  right.  I  will  give  you  one  word  of  advice,  if  I  may, 
and  ask  one  question.  Does  anybody  know  of  your  en- 
gagement except  my  nephew  and  myself?  " 

"  Only  my  mother.  Yesterday  he  told  me  to  go  straight 
home  and  tell  her.  And  I  did.  Whether  he's  told  any- 
body, I  don't  know." 

"  Be  sure  he  has  not.  He  would  tell  nobody  before  me, 
I  think.  My  advice,  then,  is  to  say  nothing  more  until 
you  hear  from  him,  or  me." 

"  I  shouldn't,  of  course,  Miss  Ironsyde." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  the  other  kindly.  "  Be  of  good  heart 
and  be  patient  for  a  few  hours  longer.  It's  hard  to  ask 
you  to  be,  but  you'll  understand  the  wisdom." 

When  Sabina  had  gone,  Miss  Ironsyde  nibbled  a  hot 
cake  and  reflected  deeply  on  an  interview  full  of  pain.  The 
story  —  so  fresh  and  terrific  to  the  teller  —  was  older  than 
the  hills  and  presented  no  novel  feature  whatever  to  her 
who  listened.  But  in  theory,  Jenny  Ironsyde  entertained 
very  positive  views  concerning  the  trite  situation. 
Whether  she  would  be  able  to  sustain  them  before  her 
nephew  remained  to  be  seen.  She  already  began  to  fear. 
She  saw  the  dangers  and  traversed  the  arguments. 
Though  free  from  class  prejudice,  she  recognised  its 
weight  in  such  a  situation.  A  break  must  mean  Sabina's 
social  ruin;  but  would  union  mean  ruin  to  Raymond? 
And  if  the  problem  was  reduced  to  that,  what  became  of 
her  theories?  She  decided  that  since  her  theories  were 
based  in  righteousness  and  justice,  she  must  prefer  his 


A  VISIT  TO  MISS  IRONSYDE     143 

downfall  to  the  woman's.  For  if,  indeed,  he  fell  as  the 
result  of  a  mistaken  marriage,  he  would  owe  the  fall  to 
himself  and  his  attitude  after  the  event.  He  need  not  fall. 
A  tendency  to  judge  him  hardly,  however,  drew  Jenny  up. 
He  had  yet  to  be  heard. 

She  went  to  her  writing-desk  and  wrote  him  a  letter  di- 
recting him  to  see  her  on  the  following  day  without  fail. 
"  It  is  exceedingly  important,  my  dear  boy,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  shall  expect  you  not  later  than  ten  o'clock  to- 
morrow morning." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AT    CHILCOMBE 

MEANTIME  Raymond  had  kept  his  promise  and  devoted 
some  hours  to  Estelle's  pleasure.  The  girl  was  proud  of 
such  an  event,  anticipated  it  for  many  days  and  won 
great  delight  from  it  when  it  came.  She  perceived,  as 
they  started,  that  her  friend  was  perturbed  and  wondered 
dimly  a  moment  as  to  what  Sabina  could  have  said  to  annoy 
him;  but  he  appeared  to  recover  quickly  and  was  calm, 
cheerful  and  attentive  to  her  chatter  after  they  had  gone  a 
mile. 

"  To  think  you've  never  been  to  Chilcombe,  Ray,"  she 
said.  "  You  and  father  go  galloping  after  foxes,  or  shoot- 
ing the  poor  pheasants  and  partridges  and  don't  care  a  bit 
for  the  wonderful  tiny  church  at  Chilcombe  —  the  tiniest 
in  England  almost,  I  do  believe.  And  then  there's  a  beau- 
tiful thing  in  it  —  a  splendid  treasure ;  and  many  people 
think  it  was  a  piece  of  one  of  the  ships  of  the  Spanish 
Armada,  that  was  wrecked  on  the  Chesil  Bank ;  and  I 
dare  say  it  is." 

"  You  must  tell  me  about  it." 

"  I'm  going  to." 

"  Not  walking  too  fast  for  you?  " 

"  Not  yet,  but  still  you  might  go  a  little  slower,  or  else 
I  shall  get  out  of  breath  and  shan't  be  able  to  tell  you 
about  things." 

He  obeyed. 

"  There  are  no  flowers  for  you  to  show  me  now,"  he  said. 

"  No,  but  there  are  interesting  things.  For  instance, 
away  there  to  the  right  is  a  wonderful  field.  And  the  old 
story  is  that  everything  that  is  ever  planted  in  it  comes 
up  red  —  red." 

144 


AT  CHILCOMBE  145 

"  What  nonsense.5' 

"  Yes,  it  is,  but  it's  creepy,  nice  nonsense.  Because  of 
the  story.  Once  there  were  two  murderers  at  Swire  vil- 
lage, and  one  turned  upon  the  other  and  told  the  secret  of 
the  murder  and  got  his  friend  caught  and  hanged.  And 
the  bad  murderer  was  paid  a  great  deal  of  money  for  tell- 
ing the  Government  about  the  other  murderer;  and  that 
was  blood-money,  you  see.  Then  the  bad  murderer  bought 
a  field,  and  because  he  bought  it  with  blood-money,  every- 
thing he  planted  came  up  red.  I  wish  it  was  true;  but, 
of  course,  I  know  it  can't  be,  though  a  good  many  things 
would  come  up  red,  like  sanfoin  and  scarlet  clover  and 
beetroots." 

"  A  jolly  good  yarn,"  declared  Raymond. 

They  tramped  along  through  a  network  of  winding  lanes, 
and  presently  Estelle  pointed  to  a  lofty  hillock  that  rose 
above  the  high  lands  on  which  they  walked. 

"  That's  Shipton  Hill,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  dome- 
like mound.  "  And  I  believe  it's  called  so,  because  from 
one  point  it  looks  exactly  like  a  ship  upside  down." 

"  I'll  bet  it  is,  and  a  very  good  name  for  it." 

The  diminutive  chapel  of  Chilcombe  stood  in  a  farmyard 
beside  a  lofty  knoll  of  trees.  It  was  a  stout  little  place  of 
early  English  architecture,  lifted  high  above  the  surround- 
ing country  and  having  a  free  horizon  of  sea  and  land.  It 
consisted  of  a  chancel,  nave  and  south  porch.  Its  bell 
cote  held  one  bell ;  and  within  was  a  Norman  font,  a  trefoil 
headed  piscina,  and  sitting  room  for  thirty-four  people. 

"  Isn't  it  a  darling  little  church?  "  asked  Estelle,  her 
voice  sunk  to  a  whisper;  and  Raymond  nodded  and  said 
that  it  was  '  ripping.' 

Then  they  examined  the  mediaeval  treasure  of  the  reredos 
—  a  panel  of  cedar  wood,  some  ten  feet  in  length,  that 
surmounted  the  altar.  It  was  set  in  a  deep  oaken  frame, 
and  displayed  two  circular  drawings  with  an  oblong  pic- 
ture in  the  midst.  In  the  left  circle  was  the  scourging  of 
Christ;  in  the  right,  the  Redeejner  rose  from  the  toinb; 


146  THE  SPINNERS 

while  between  them  the  crucifixion  had  been  depicted,  with 
armies  of  mail-clad  soldiers  about  the  cross.  The  winged 
symbols  of  the  evangelists  appeared  in  other  portions  of 
the  panel  with  various  separate  figures,  and  there  were 
indications  that  the  work  was  unfinished. 

Estelle,  who  had  often  studied  every  line  of  it,  gave  her 
explanations  and  ideas  to  Raymond,  while  he  listened  with 
great  attention.  Then  they  went  to  the  ancient  manor 
house  now  converted  into  a  farm;  and  there  the  girl  had 
friends  who  provided  them  with  tea.  She  made  no  at- 
tempt to  hide  her  pride  at  her  companion,  for  she  was  a 
lonely  little  person  and  the  expedition  with  Raymond 
had  been  a  great  event  in  her  life. 

Exceedingly  happy  and  contented,  she  walked  beside 
him  homeward  in  the  fading  light  and  ceased  not  to  utter 
her  budding  thoughts  and  reflections.  He  proved  a  good 
listener  and  encouraged  her,  for  she  amused  him  and  really 
interested  him.  In  common  with  her  father,  Raymond  was 
often  struck  by  the  fact  that  a  child  would  consider  sub- 
jects which  had  never  entered  his  head ;  but  so  it  was,  since 
Estelle's  mind  had  been  wrought  in  a  larger  plan  and 
compassed  heights  and  depths,  even  in  its  present  imma- 
turity, to  which  neither  Waldron's  nor  Raymond's  had 
aspired.  Yet  the  things  she  said  were  challenging,  though 
often  absurd.  Facts  which  he  knew,  though  Estelle  as 
yet  did  not,  served  to  block  her  ideals  and  explain  her 
mysteries,  yet  he  recognised  the  girl's  simple  dreams,  un- 
vexed  by  practical  considerations,  or  the  '  nay  '  that  real 
life  must  make  to  them,  were  beautiful. 

She  spoke  a  good  deal  about  the  Mill,  where  now  her 
chief  interest  centred;  and  Raymond  spoke  about  it  too. 
And  presently,  after  brisk  interchange  of  ideas,  she  pointed 
out  a  fact  that  had  not  struck  him. 

"  It's  a  funny  thing,  Ray,"  she  said,  "  but  what  you 
love  best  about  the  works  is  the  machinery;  and  what  I 
love  best  about  them  is  the  people.  Yet  I  don't  see  how  % 
machine  can  be  as  interesting  as  a  girl/' 


AT  CHILCOMBE  147 

"  Perhaps  you're  wrong,  Estelle.  Perhaps  I  wish  you 
were  right.  If  I  hadn't  found  a  girl  more  interest- 
ing  "  He  broke  off  and  turned  from  the  road  she 

had  innocently  opened  into  his  own  thoughts. 

"  Of  course  the  people  are  more  interesting,  really. 
But  because  I'm  keen  about  the  machines,  you  mustn't 
think  I'm  not  keener  still  about  the  people.  You  see  the 
better  the  machines,  the  better  time  the  people  will  have, 
and  the  less  hard  and  difficult  and  tiring  for  them  will  be 
their  work." 

She  considered  this  and  suddenly  beamed. 

"  How  splendid !  Of  course  I  see.  You  are  clever, 
Ray.  And  it's  really  the  people  you  think  of  all  the  time." 

She  gave  him  a  look  of  admiration. 

"  I  expect  presently  they'll  all  see  that ;  and  gradually 
you'll  get  them  more  and  more  beautiful  machines,  till 
their  work  is  just  pleasure  and  nothing  else.  And  do  in- 
vent something  to  prevent  Sabina  and  Nancy  and  Alice 
hurting  their  hands.  They  have  to  stop  the  spindles  so 
often,  and  it  wounds  them,  and  Nancy  gets  chilblains  in 
the  winter,  so  it's  simply  horrid  for  her." 

"  That's  right.  It's  one  of  the  problems.  I'm  not 
forgetting  these  things." 

"  And  if  I  think  of  anything  may  I  tell  you?  " 

"  I  hope  you  will,  Estelle." 

She  talked  him  into  a  pleasant  humour,  and  it  took 
a  practical  form  unknown  to  Estelle,  for  before  they  had 
reached  home  again,  there  passed  through  Raymond's 
mind  a  wave  of  contrition.  The  contrast  between  Estelle's 
steadfast  and  unconscious  altruism  and  his  own  irresolu- 
tion and  selfishness  struck  into  him.  She  made  him  think 
more  kindly  of  Sabina,  and  when  he  considered  the  events 
of  that  day  from  Sabina's  standpoint,  he  felt  ashamed 
of  himself.  For  it  was  not  she  who  had  done  anything 
unreasonable.  The  blame  was  his.  He  had  practically 
lied  to  her  the  Jay  before,  and  to-day  he  had  been  harsh 
and  cruel.  She  had  a  right  —  the  best  possible  right  — 


148  THE  SPINNERS 

to  come  and  see  him;  she  had  good  reason  to  be  angry  on 
learning  that  he  had  not  kept  his  word. 

He  determined  to  see  Sabina  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
about  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  after  the  return  from 
the  walk,  he  went  down  to  *  The  Magnolias  '  and  rang  the 
bell.  Mrs.  Dinnett  came  to  the  door,  and  said  something 
that  hardened  the  young  man's  heart  again  very  rapidly. 

Sabina's  mother  was  unfriendly.  Since  her  daughter 
returned,  she  had  learned  all  there  was  to  know,  and  for 
the  moment  felt  very  antagonistic.  She  had  already  an- 
nounced the  betrothal  to  certain  of  her  friends,  and  the 
facts  that  day  had  discovered  made  her  both  anxious  and 
angry.  She  was  a  woman  of  intermittent  courage,  but 
her  paroxysms  of  pluck  soon  passed  and  between  them  she 
was  craven  and  easily  cast  down.  For  the  moment,  how- 
ever, she  felt  no  fear  and  echoed  the  mood  in  which  Sabina 
had  returned  from  Bridport  an  hour  earlier. 

"  Sabina  can't  be  seen  to-night,"  she  said.  "  You 
wouldn't  have  anything  to  do  with  her  this  afternoon,  Mr. 
Ironsyde,  and  treated  her  like  a  stranger;  and  now  she 
won't  see  you." 

"  Why  not,  Missis  Dinnett?  " 

"  She's  got  her  pride,  and  you've  wounded  it  —  and 
worse.  And  I  may  tell  you  we're  not  the  people  to  be 
treated  like  this.  It's  a  very  ill-convenient  business  alto- 
gether, and  if  you're  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of 
honour " 

He  cut  her  short. 

"  Is  she  going  to  see  me,  or  isn't  she?  " 

"  She  is  not.  She's  very  much  distressed,  and  every 
reason  to  be,  God  knows ;  and  she's  not  going  to  see  you 
to-night." 

Raymond  took  it  quietly  and  his  restraint  instantly 
alarmed  Mrs.  Dinnett. 

"  It's  not  my  fault,  Mr.  Ironsyde.  But  seeing  how 
things  are  between  you,  she  was  cruel  put  about  this  after- 


AT  CHILCOMBE  149 

noon,  and  she's  got  to  think  of  herself  if  you  can  do 
things  like  that  at  such  a  moment." 

"  She  must  try  and  keep  her  nerve  better.  There  was 
no  reason  why  I  should  break  promises.  She  ought  to 
have  waited  for  me  to  come  to  her." 

Mary   Dinnett   flamed    again. 

"  You  can  say  that !  And  didn't  she  wait  all  the  morn- 
ing to  see  if  you'd  come  to  her  —  and  me  ?  And  as  to 
promises  —  it  don't  trouble  you  to  break  promises,  else 
you'd  have  seen  your  family  yesterday,  as  you  told  Sabina 
you  were  going  to  do." 

"  Is  she  going  to  the  mill  to-morrow? "  he  asked, 
ignoring  the  attack. 

"  No,  she  ain't  going  to  the  mill.  It  isn't  a  right  and 
fitting  thing  that  the  woman  you're  going  to  marry  and 
the  mother  of  your  future  child  should  be  working  in  a 
spinning  mill;  and  if  you  don't  know  it,  others  do." 

"  She  told  you  then  —  against  my  wishes  ?  " 

"  And  what  are  your  wishes  alongside  of  your  acts  ? 
You're  behaving  very  wickedly,  Mr.  Ironsyde,  and  driving 
my  daughter  frantic ;  and  if  she  can't  tell  her  mother  her 
sorrows,  who  should  know?  " 

"  She  has  disobeyed  me  and  done  a  wrong  thing,"  he 
said  quietly.  "  This  may  alter  the  whole  situation,  and 
you  can  tell  her  so." 

"  For  God's  sake  don't  talk  like  that.  Would  you  ruin 
the  pair  of  us  ?  " 

"  What  am  I  to  do  if  I  can't  trust  her?  "  he  asked,  and 
then  went  abruptly  away  before  Mary  could  answer. 

She  was  terribly  frightened  and  soon  drowned  in  tears, 
for  when  she  returned  to  Sabina  and  related  the  conversa- 
tion, her  daughter  became  passionate  and  blamed  her  with 
a  shower  of  bitter  words. 

"  I  only  told  you,  because  I  thought  you  had  sense 
enough  to  keep  your  mouth  shut  about  it,"  she  cried. 
"  Now  he'll  think  it's  common  news  and  hate  me  —  hate 


150  THE  SPINNERS 

me  for  telling.  You've  ruined  me  —  that's  what  you've 
done,  and  I  may  as  well  go  and  make  a  hole  in  the  water  as 
not,  for  he'll  never  marry  me  now." 

"  You  told  Miss  Ironsyde,"  sobbed  the  mother. 

"  That  was  different.  She'll  keep  it  to  herself,  and  I 
had  to  tell  her  to  show  how  serious  it  was  for  me.  For 
anything  less  than  that,  she'd  have  taken  his  side  against 
me.  And  now  he'll  find  I've  been  to  her,  and  that  may  — 
oh,  my  God,  why  didn't  I  keep  quiet  a  little  longer,  and 
trust  him?" 

"  You  had  every  right  to  speak,  when  you  found  he  was 
telling  lies,"  said  Mrs.  Dinnett. 

And  while  they  quarrelled,  Raymond  returned  to  North 
Hill  in  a  mood  that  could  not  keep  silence.  He  and 
Arthur  Waldron  smoked  after  supper,  and  when  Estelle 
had  gone  to  bed,  the  younger  spoke  and  took  up  the  con- 
versation of  the  preceding  night  where  he  had  dropped  it. 
The  speech  that  now  passed,  however,  proceeded  on  a  false 
foundation,  for  Raymond  only  told  Arthur  what  he  pleased 
and  garbled  the  facts  by  withholding  what  was  para- 
mount. 

"  You  were  talking  of  Sabina  Dinnett  last  night,"  he 
said.  "  What  would  you  think  if  I  told  you  I  was  going 
to  marry  her,  Waldron  ?  " 

"  A  big  '  if.'  But  you're  not  going  to  tell  me  so.  You 
would  surely  have  told  me  yesterday  if  you  had  meant 
that." 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  if  I  want  to?  " 

"  I  always  keep  out  of  personal  things  —  even  with 
pals.  I  strained  a  point  with  you  last  night  for  friend- 
ship, Ray.  Is  the  deed  done,  or  isn't  it?  If  it  is,  there 
is  nothing  left  but  to  congratulate  you  and  wish  you  both 
luck." 

"If  it  isn't?" 

Mr.  Waldron  was  cautious. 

"  You're  not  going  to  draw  me  till  I  know  as  much  as 


AT  CHILCOMBE  151 

you  know,  old  chap.  Either  you're  engaged,  or  you're 
not." 

"  Say  it's  an  open  question  —  then  what?  " 

"  How  can  I  say  it's  an  open  question  after  this  ?  I'm 
not  going  to  say  a  word  about  it." 

"  Well,  I  thought  we  were  engaged ;  but  it  seems  there's 
a  bit  of  doubt  in  the  air  still." 

"  Then  you'd  better  clear  that  doubt,  before  you  men- 
tion the  subject  again.  Until  you  and  she  agree  about  it, 
naturally  it's  nobody  else's  business." 

"  And  yet  everybody  makes  it  their  business,  including 
you.  Why  did  you  advise  me  to  look  out  what  I  was  do- 
ing last  night?  " 

"  Because  you're  young,  boy,  and  I  thought  you  might 
make  a  mistake  and  do  an  unsporting  thing.  That  was 
nothing  to  do  with  your  marrying  her.  How  was  I  to 
know  such  an  idea  was  in  your  mind?  Naturally  nobody 
supposed  any  question  of  that  sort  had  arisen." 

"Why  not?" 

Waldron  felt  a  little  impatient. 

"  You  know  as  well  as  I  do.  Men  in  your  position 
don't  as  a  rule  contemplate  marriage  with  women,  however 

charming  and  clever,  who .  But  this  is  nonsense. 

I'm  not  going  to  answer  your  stupid  questions." 

"Then  you'd  say ?" 

"  No,  I  wouldn't.  I'll  say  nothing  about  it.  You're 
wanting  to  get  something  for  nothing  now,  and  presently 
I  daresay  you'd  remind  me  of  something  I  had  said.  We 
can  go  back  to  the  beginning  if  you  like,  but  you're  not 
going  to  play  lawyer  with  me,  Ray.  It's  in  a  nutshell, 
I  suppose.  You're  going  to  marry  Miss  Dinnett,  or  else 
you're  not.  Of  course,  you  know  which.  And  if  you 
won't  tell  me  which,  then  don't  ask  me  to  talk  about  it." 

"  I've  not  decided." 

"  Then  drop  it  till  you  have." 

"  You're  savage  now." 


152  THE  SPINNERS 

"  I'm  never  savage  —  you  know  that  very  well.  Or,  if 
I  am,  it's  only  with  men  who  are  unsporting." 

"  Let's  generalise,  then.  I  suppose  you'd  say  a  man 
was  a  fool  to  marry  out  of  his  own  class." 

"  As  a  rule,  yes.  Because  marriage  is  difficult  enough 
at  best  without  complicating  it  like  that.  But  there  are 
exceptions.  You  can't  find  any  rule  without  exceptions." 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  truth  then,  Arthur.  I  meant  to 
marry  Sabina.  I  believed  that  she  was  the  only  being  in 
the  world  worth  living  for.  But  things  have  happened 
and  now  I'm  doubtful  whether  it  would  be  the  best  possi- 
ble." 

"  And  what  about  her?     Is  she  doubtful  too?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Anyway  I've  just  been  down  to  see 
her  and  she  wouldn't  see  me." 

"  See  her  to-morrow  then  and  clear  it  up.  If  there's 
a  doubt,  give  yourselves  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  She's 
tremendously  clever,  Estelle  says,  and  she  may  be  clever 
enough  to  believe  it  wouldn't  do.  And  if  she  feels  like 
that,  you'll  be  a  fool  to  press  it." 

They  talked  on  and  Waldron,  despite  his  caution,  was 
too  ingenuous  to  hide  his  real  opinions.  He  made  it 
very  clear  to  Raymond  that  any  such  match,  in  his  judg- 
ment, would  be  attended  by  failure.  But  he  spoke  in 
ignorance  of  the  truth. 

The  younger  went  to  bed  sick  of  himself.  His  instincts 
of  right  and  honour  fought  with  his  desires  to  be  free. 
His  heart  sank  now  at  the  prospect  of  matrimony.  He 
assured  himself  that  he  loved  Sabina  as  steadfastly  as  ever 
he  had  loved  her;  but  that  there  might  yet  be  a  shared 
life  of  happiness  for  them  without  the  matrimonial  chains. 
He  considered  whether  it  would  be  possible  to  influence 
Sabina  in  that  direction ;  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  specu- 
late on  what  would  be  his  future  feelings  for  her  if  she 
insisted  upon  the  sanctity  of  his  promises. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

CONFUSION 

MR.  CHURCHOUSE  was  standing  in  his  porch  when  a  post- 
man brought  him  a  parcel.  It  was  a  book,  and  Ernest  dis- 
played mild  interest. 

"  What  should  that  be,  I  wonder?  "  he  said.  Then  he 
asked  a  question. 

"  Have  you  seen  Bert,  the  newspaper  boy  ?  For  the 
second  morning  he  disappoints  me." 

But  Bert  himself  appeared  at  the  same  moment  and  the 
postman  went  his  way. 

"  No  newspaper  on  Saturday  —  how  was  that?  "  asked 
Mr.  Churchouse. 

"  I  was  dreadful  ill  and  my  mother  wouldn't  let  me  go 
outdoors,"  explained  the  boy.  "  I  asked  Neddy  Prichard 
to  go  down  to  the  baker's  and  get  it  for  you;  but  he 
wouldn't." 

"  Then  I  say  no  more,  except  to  hope  you're  better." 

"  It's  my  froat,"  explained  Bert,  a  sturdy,  flaxen 
youngster  of  ten. 

"  One  more  point  I  should  like  to  raise  while  you  are 
here.  Have  you  noticed  that  garden  chair  in  the  porch  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,  and  wondered  why  'twas  left  there." 

"  Wonder  no  more,  Bert.  It  is  there  that  you  may  put 
the  paper  upon  it,  rather  than  fling  the  news  on  a  dirty 
door-mat." 

"  Fancy !  "  said  Bert.     "  I  never !  " 

"  Bear  it  in  mind  henceforth,  and,  if  you  will  delay  a 
moment,  I  will  give  you  some  black  currant  lozenges  for 
your  throat." 

A  big  black  cat  stood  by  his  master  listening  to  this 
conversation  and  Bert  now  referred  to  him. 

153 


15*  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Would  thicky  cat  sclow  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  Bert  —  have  no  fear  of  Peter  Grim,"  answered 
Mr.  Churchouse.  "  His  looks  belie  him.  He  has  a  for- 
bidding face  but  a  friendly  heart." 

"  He  looks  cruel  fierce." 

"  He  does,  but  though  a  great  sportsman,  he  has  a  most 
amiable  nature." 

Having  ministered  to  Bert,  Mr.  Churchouse  retired  with 
his  book  and  paper.  Then  came  Mary  Dinnett,  red-eyed 
and  in  some  agitation.  But  for  a  moment  he  did  not 
observe  her  trouble.  He  had  opened  his. parcel  and  re- 
vealed a  volume  bound  in  withered  calf  and  bearing  signs 
of  age  and  harsh  treatment. 

"  A  work  I  have  long  coveted  —  it  is  again  *  a  well- 
wisher,'  Missis  Dinnett,  who  has  sent  it  to  me.  There  is 
much  kindness  in  the  world  still." 

But  Mrs.  Dinnett  was  too  preoccupied  with  her  own 
affairs  to  feel  interest  in  Ernest's  pleasant  little  experi- 
ence. By  nature  pessimistic,  original  doubts,  when  she 
heard  of  Sabina's  engagement,  were  now  confirmed  and 
she  felt  certain  that  her  daughter  would  never  become 
young  Ironsyde's  wife.  Regardless  of  the  girl's  injunc- 
tion to  silence,  and  feeling  that  both  for  herself  and 
Sabina  this  disaster  might  alter  the  course  of  their  lives 
and  bring  her  own  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave,  Mary 
now  took  the  first  opportunity  to  relate  the  facts  to  Mr. 
Churchouse.  They  created  in  him  emotions  of  such  deep 
concern  that  neither  his  book  nor  his  newspaper  were 
opened  on  the  day  of  the  announcement. 

Mrs.  Dinnett  rambled  through  her  disastrous  recital, 
declared  that  for  her  own  part,  she  had  already  accepted 
the  horror  of  it  and  was  prepared  to  face  the  worst  that 
could  happen,  and  went  so  far  as  to  predict  what  Ernest 
himself  would  probably  do,  now  that  the  scandal  had 
reached  his  ears.  She  was  distraught  and  for  the  mo- 
ment appeared  almost  to  revel  in  the  accumulated  horrors 
of  the  situation. 


CONFUSION  155 

She  told  the  story  of  promise  and  betrayal  and  summed 
up  with  one  agonised  prophecy. 

"  And  now  you'll  cast  her  out  —  you'll  turn  upon  us  and 
throw  us  out  —  I  know  you  will." 

"  *  Cast  her  out '  ?  Good  God  of  Mercy !  Who  am  I  to 
cast  anybody  out,  Missis  Dinnett?  Shall  an  elderly  and 
faulty  fellow  creature  rise  in  judgment  at  the  weakness  of 
youth?  What  have  I  done  in  the  past  to  lead  you  to  any 
such  conclusion?  I  feel  very  certain,  indeed,  that  you 
are  permitting  yourself  a  debauch  of  misery  —  wallowing 
in  it,  Mary  Dinnett  —  as  misguided  wretches  often  wallow 
in  drink  out  of  an  unmanly  despair  at  their  own  human 
weakness.  Fortify  yourself!  Approach  the  question  on 
a  higher  plane.  Remember  no  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground 
without  the  cognisance  of  its  Creator!  As  for  Sabina,  I 
love  her  and  have  devoted  many  hours  to  her  education. 
I  also  love  Raymond  Ironsyde  —  for  his  own  sake  as 
well  as  his  family's.  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  you 
exaggerate  the  facts.  Such  a  thing  is  quite  incredible. 
Shall  I  quarrel  with  a  gracious  flower  because  a  wander- 
ing bee  has  set  a  seed?  He  may  be  an  inconsiderate  and 
greedy  bee  —  but " 

Mr.  Churchouse  broke  off,  conscious  that  his  simile 
would  land  him  in  difficulties. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  we  must  not  pursue  this  subject  on  a 
pagan  or  poetical  basis.  We  are  dealing  with  two  young 
Christians,  Missis  Dinnett  —  a  man  and  a  woman  of  good 
nurture  and  high  principle.  I  will  never  believe  —  not 
if  he  said  it  himself  —  that  Raymond  Ironsyde  would 
commit  any  such  unheard-of  outrage.  You  say  that  he 
has  promised  to  marry  her.  That  is  enough  for  me.  The 
son  of  Henry  Ironsyde  will  keep  his  promise.  Be  sure  of 
that.  For  the  moment  leave  the  rest  in  my  hands.  Ex- 
ercise discretion,  and  pray,  pray  keep  silence  about  it. 
I  do  trust  that  nobody  has  heard  anything.  Publicity 
might  complicate  the  situation  seriously." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Mrs.  Dinnett  had  told  everything  to 


156  THE  SPINNERS 

her  bosom  friend  —  a  woman  who  dwelt  in  a  cottage  one 
hundred  yards  from  *  The  Magnolias.'  She  did  not  men- 
tion this,  however. 

"  If  you  say  there's  hope,  I'll  try  to  believe  it,"  she 
answered.  "  The  man  came  here  last  night  and  Sabina 
wouldn't  see  him,  and  God  knows  what'll  be  the  next 
thing." 

"  Leave  the  next  thing  to  me." 

"  She's  given  notice  at  the  works.     He  told  her  to." 

"  Of  course  —  quite  properly.  Now  calm  down  and 
fetch  me  my  walking  boots." 

In  half  an  hour  Ernest  was  on  his  way  to  Bridport. 
As  Sabina,  before  him,  his  instinct  led  to  Miss  Ironsyde 
and  he  felt  that  the  facts  might  best  be  imparted  to  her. 
If  anybody  had  influence  with  Raymond,  it  was  she.  His 
tone  of  confidence  before  Mrs.  Dinnett  had  been  partly 
assumed,  however.  His  sympathies  were  chiefly  with 
Sabina,  for  she  was  no  ordinary  mill  hand ;  she  had  en- 
enjoyed  his  tuition  and  possessed  native  gifts  worthy  of 
admiration.  But  she  was  as  excitable  as  her  mother,  and 
if  this  vital  matter  went  awry,  there  could  be  no  doubt 
that  her  life  must  be  spoiled. 

Mr.  Churchouse  managed  to  get  a  lift  on  his  way  from 
a  friendly  farmer,  and  he  arrived  at  Bridport  Town  Hall 
soon  after  ten  o'clock.  While  driving  he  put  the  matter 
from  his  mind  for  a  time,  and  his  acquaintance  started 
other  trains  of  thought.  One  of  them,  more  agreeable 
to  a  man  of  his  temperament  than  the  matter  in  hand,  still 
occupied  his  mind  when  he  stood  before  Jenny  Ironsyde. 

"  You !  "  she  said.  "  I  had  an  idea  you  never  came  into 
the  world  till  afternoon." 

"  Seldom  —  seldom.  I  drove  a  good  part  of  the  way 
with  Farmer  Gate,  and  he  made  a  curious  remark.  He 
said  that  a  certain  person  might  as  well  be  dead  for  all 
the  good  he  was.  Now  what  constitutes  life?  I've  been 
asking  myself  that." 

"  It's  certainly  difficult  to  decide  about  some  people, 


CONFUSION  157 

whether  they're  alive  or  dead.  Some  make  you  doubt  if 
they  ever  were  alive." 

"  A  good  many  certainly  don't  know  they're  born ;  and 
plenty  don't  know  they're  dead,"  he  declared. 

"  To  be  in  your  grave  is  not  necessarily  to  be  dead,  and 
to  be  in  your  shop,  or  office,  needn't  mean  that  you're 
alive,"  admitted  the  lady. 

"  Quite  so.  Who  doesn't  know  dead  people  personally, 
and  go  to  tea  with  them,  and  hear  their  bones  rattle? 
And  whose  spirit  doesn't  meet  in  their  thoughts,  or  works, 
the  dead  who  are  still  living?  " 

"  Most  true,  I'm  sure ;  but  you  didn't  come  to  tell  me 
that?  " 

"  No ;  yet  it  has  set  me  wondering  whether,  perhaps,  I 
am  dead  —  at  any  rate  deader  than  I  need  be." 

"  We  are  probably  all  deader  than  we  need  be." 

"  But  to-day  there  has  burst  into  my  life  a  very  waken- 
ing thing.  It  may  have  been  sent.  For  mystery  is  every- 
where, and  what's  looking  exceedingly  bad  for  those  in- 
volved, may  be  good  for  me.  And  yet,  one  can  hardly 
claim  to  win  goodness  out  of  the  threatened  misfortunes 
to  those  who  are  dear  to  one." 

"What's  the  matter?  Something's  happened,  or  you 
wouldn't  come  to  see  me  so  early." 

"  Something  has  happened,"  he  answered,  "  and  one 
turns  to  you  in  times  of  stress,  just  as  one  used  to  turn 
to  your  dear  brother,  Henry.  You  have  character, 
shrewdness  and  decision." 

Miss  Ironsyde  saw  light. 

"  You've  come  for  Raymond,"  she  said. 

"  Now  how  did  you  divine  that?  But,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  I've  come  for  somebody  else.  A  very  serious  thing 
has  happened  and  if  we  older  heads " 

"  Who  told  you  about  it?  " 

"  This  morning,  an  hour  ago,  it  was  broken  to  me  by 
Sabina's  mother." 

"  Tell  me  just  what  she  told  you,  Ernest." 


158  THE  SPINNERS 

He  obeyed  and  described  the  interview  exactly. 

"  I  cannot  understand  that,  for  Sabina  saw  me  last 
night  and  explained  the  situation.  I  impressed  upon  her 
the  importance  of  keeping  the  matter  as  secret  as  possible 
for  the  present." 

"  Nevertheless  Mary  Dinnett  told  me.  She  is  a  very 
impulsive  person  —  so  is  Sabina ;  but  in  Sabina's  case 
there  is  brain  power  to  control  impulse ;  in  her  mother's 
case  there  is  none." 

"  I'm  much  annoyed,"  declared  Miss  Ironsyde  — "  not 
of  course,  that  you  should  know,  but  that  there  should  be 
talking.  Please  go  home  and  tell  them  both  to  be  quiet. 
This  chattering  is  most  dangerous  and  may  defeat  every- 
thing. Last  night  I  wrote  to  Raymond  directing  him  to 
come  and  see  me  immediately.  I  did  not  tell  him  why; 
but  I  told  him  it  was  urgent.  I  made  the  strongest  ap- 
peal possible.  When  you  arrived,  I  thought  it  was  he. 
He  should  have  been  here  an  hour  ago." 

"  If  he  is  coming,  I  will  go,"  answered  Ernest.  "  I 
don't  wish  to  meet  him  at  present.  He  has  done  very 
wrongly  —  wickedly,  in  fact.  The  question  is  whether 
marriage  with  Sabina " 

"  There  is  no  question  about  that  in  my  opinion,"  de- 
clared the  lady.  "  I  am  a  student  of  character,  and  had 

she  been  a  different  sort  of  girl .  But  even  as  it  is 

I  suspend  judgment  until  I  have  seen  Raymond.  It  is 
quite  impossible,  however,  after  hearing  her,  to  see  what 
excuse  he  can  offer." 

"  She  is  a  very  superior  girl  indeed,  and  very  clever 
and  refined.  I  always  hoped  she  would  marry  a  school- 
master, or  somebody  with  cultured  tastes.  But  her  great 
and  unusual  beauty  doubtless  attracted  Raymond." 

"  I  think  you'd  better  go  home,  Ernest.  I'll  write  to 
you  after  I've  seen  the  boy.  Do  command  silence  from 
both  of  them.  I'm  very  angry  and  very  distressed,  but 
really  nothing  can  be  done  till  we  hear  him.  My  sym- 


CONFUSION  159 

pathy  is  entirely  with  Sabina.  Let  her  go  on  with  her  life 
for  a  day  or  two  and " 

"  She's  changed  her  life  and  left  the  Mill.  I  under- 
stand Raymond  told  her  to  do  so." 

"  That  is  a  good  sign,  I  suppose.  If  she's  done  that, 
the  whole  affair  must  soon  be  known.  But  we  talk  in 
the  dark." 

Mr.  Churchouse  departed,  forgot  his  anxieties  in  a  sec- 
ond-hand book  shop  and  presently  returned  home. 

But  he  saw  nothing  of  Raymond  on  the  way ;  and  Miss 
Ironsyde  waited  in  vain  for  her  nephew's  arrival.  He 
did  not  come,  and  her  letter,  instead  of  bringing  him 
immediately  as  she  expected,  led  to  a  very  different  course 
of  action  on  his  part. 

For,  taken  with  Sabina's  refusal  to  see  him,  he  guessed 
correctly  at  what  had  inspired  it.  Sabina  had  threatened 
more  than  once  in  the  past  to  visit  Miss  Ironsyde  and  he 
had  forbidden  her  to  do  so.  Now  he  knew  from  her  mother 
why  she  had  gone,  and  while  not  surprised,  he  clutched  at 
the  incident  and  very  quickly  worked  it  into  a  tremendous 
grievance  against  the  unlucky  girl.  His  intelligence  told 
him  that  he  could  not  fairly  resent  her  attempt  to  win  a 
powerful  friend  at  this  crisis  in  her  fortunes ;  but  his  own 
inclinations  and  growing  passion  for  liberty  fastened  on 
it  and  made  him  see  a  possible  vantage  point.  He  worked 
himself  up  into  a  false  indignation.  He  knew  it  was  false, 
yet  he  persevered  in  it,  as  though  it  were  real,  and  acted 
as  though  it  were  real. 

He  tore  up  his  aunt's  letter  and  ignored  it. 

Instead  of  going  to  Bridport,  he  went  to  his  office  and 
worked  as  usual. 

At  dinner  time  he  expected  Sabina,  but  she  did  not  come 
and  he  heard  from  Mr.  Best  that  she  was  not  at  the  works. 

"  She  came  in  here  and  gave  notice  on  Saturday  after- 
noon," said  the  foreman,  shortly,  and  turned  away  from 
Raymond  even  as  he  spoke. 


160  THE  SPINNERS 

Then  the  young  man  remembered  that  he  had  bade 
Sabina  do  this.  His  anger  increased,  for  now  everybody 
must  soon  hear  of  what  had  happened. 

In  a  sort  of  subconscious  way  he  felt  glad,  despite  his 
irritation,  at  the  turn  of  events,  for  they  might  reconcile 
him  with  his  conscience  and  help  to  save  the  situation  in 
the  long  run. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    LOVERS'    GROVE 

A  LITTLE  matter  now  kindled  a  great  fire,  and  a  woman's 
reasonable  irritation,  which  he  had  himself  created,  pro- 
duced for  Raymond  Ironsyde  a  very  complete  catastrophe. 

His  aunt,  indeed,  was  not  prone  to  irritation.  Few 
women  preserved  a  more  level  mind,  or  exhibited  that  self- 
control  which  is  a  prime  product  of  common-sense ;  but,  for 
once,  it  must  be  confessed  that  Jenny  broke  down  and  did 
that  which  she  had  been  the  first  to  censure  in  another. 
The  spark  fell  on  sufficient  fuel  and  the  face  of  the  earth 
was  changed  for  Raymond  before  he  slept  that  night. 

For  his  failure  to  answer  her  urgent  appeal,  his  con- 
temptuous disregard  of  the  strongest  letter  she  had  ever 
written,  annoyed  her  exceedingly.  It  argued  a  callous 
indifference  to  her  own  wishes  and  a  spirit  of  extraordinary 
unkindness.  She  had  been  a  generous  aunt  to  him  all 
his  life;  he  had  very  much  for  which  to  thank  her;  and 
yet  before  this  pressing  petition  he  could  remain  dumb. 
That  his  mind  was  disordered  she  doubted  not;  but  noth- 
ing excused  silence  at  such  a  moment. 

After  lunch  on  this  day  Daniel  spent  some  little  while 
with  his  aunt,  and  then  when  a  post  which  might  have 
brought  some  word  from  Raymond  failed  to  do  so,  Jenny's 
gust  of  temper  spoke.  It  was  the  familiar  case  of  a  stab 
at  one  who  has  annoyed  us ;  but  to  point  such  stabs,  the 
ear  of  a  third  person  is  necessary,  and  before  she  had 
quite  realised  what  she  was  doing,  Miss  Ironsyde  sharply 
blamed  her  nephew  to  his  brother. 

"  The  most  inconsiderate,  selfish  person  on  earth  is 
Raymond,"  she  said  as  a  servant  brought  her  two  letters, 
neither  from  the  sinner.  "  I  asked  him  —  and  prayed 

161 


162  THE  SPINNERS 

him  —  to  see  me  to-day  about  a  subject  of  the  gravest 
importance  to  him  and  to  us  all ;  and  he  neither  comes  nor 
takes  the  least  notice  of  my  letter.  He  is  hopeless." 

"What's  he  done  now?" 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  —  at  least  —  never  mind.  Leave 
it  for  the  minute.  Sorry,  I  was  cross.  You'll  know 
what  there  is  to  know  soon  enough.  If  there's  trouble  in 
store,  we  must  put  a  bold  face  on  it  and  think  of  him." 

"  I  rather  hoped  things  were  going  smoother.  He 
seems  to  be  getting  more  steady  and  industrious." 

"  Perhaps  he  reserved  his  industry  for  the  works  and 
leaves  none  for  anything  else,  then,"  she  answered ;  "  but 
don't  worry  before  you  need." 

"  You'll  tell  me  if  there's  anything  I  ought  to  know, 
Aunt  Jenny." 

"  He'll  tell  you  himself,  I  should  hope.  And  if  he 
doesn't,  no  doubt  there  will  be  plenty  of  other  people  to 
do  so.  But  don't  meet  trouble  half  way.  Shall  you  be 
back  to  tea?" 

"  Probably  not.  I'm  going  to  Bridetown  this  after- 
noon. I  have  an  appointment  with  Best.  He  was  to  see 
some  machinery  that  sounded  all  right ;  but  he's  very  con- 
servative and  I  can  always  trust  him  to  be  on  the  safe 
side.  One  doesn't  mean  to  be  left  behind,  of  course." 

"  Always  ask  yourself  what  your  father  would  have 
thought,  Daniel.  And  then  you'll  not  make  any  mis- 
takes." 

He  nodded. 

"  I  ask  myself  that  often  enough,  you  may  be  sure." 

An  hour  later  the  young  man  had  driven  his  trap  to 
the  Mill  and  listened  to  John  Best  on  the  subject  of  im- 
mediate interest.  The  foreman  decided  against  any  in- 
novation for  the  present  and  Daniel  was  glad.  Then  he 
asked  for  his  brother.  « 

"  Is  Mister  Raymond  here?  " 

"  He  was  this  morning ;  but  he's  not  down  this  after- 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  163 

noon.  At  least  he  wasn't  when  I  went  to  his  office  just 
before  you  came." 

"  Everything's  all  right,  I  suppose?  " 

Mr.  Best  looked  uncomfortable. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  sir ;  but  I  hate  talking.  You'd  better 
hear  it  from  him." 

Daniel's  heart  sank. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said.  "  You're  one  of  us,  John  —  my 
father's  right  hand  for  twenty  years  —  and  our  good  is 
your  good.  If  you  know  of  trouble,  tell  me  the  truth.  It 
may  be  better  for  him  in  the  long  run.  Miss  Ironsyde 
was  bothered  about  him,  to-day." 

"  If  it's  better  for  him,  then  I'll  speak,"  answered  Best. 
"  He's  a  very  clever  young  man  and  learning  fast  now. 
He's  buckling  to  and  getting  on  with  it.  But  —  Sabina 
Dinnett,  our  first  spinner,  gave  notice  on  Saturday.  She's 
not  here  to-day." 

"  What  does  that  mean?  " 

"  You'd  better  ask  them  that  know.  I've  heard  a  lot 
of  rumours,  and  they  may  be  true  or  not,  and  I  hope 
they're  not.  But  if  they  are,  I  suppose  it  means  the  old 
story  where  men  get  mixed  up  with  girls." 

Daniel  was  silent,  but  his  face  flushed. 

"  Don't  jump  to  the  conclusion  it's  true,"  urged  the 
foreman.  "  Hear  both  sides  before  you  do  anything  about 
it." 

"  I  know  it's  true." 

Mr.  Best  did  not  answer. 

"  And  you  know  it's  true,"  continued  the  younger. 

"  What  everybody  says  nobody  should  believe,"  ven- 
tured Best.  "  What  happened  was  this  —  Sabina  came 
in  on  Saturday  afternoon,  when  I  was  working  in  my 
garden,  and  gave  notice.  Not  a  month,  but  to  go  right 
away.  Of  course  I  asked  her  why,  but  she  wouldn't  tell 
me.  She  was  as  happy  as  a  lark  about  it,  and  what  she 
said  was  that  I'd  know  the  reason  very  soon  and  be  the 
first  to  congratulate  her.  Of  course,  I  thought  she  was 


164.  THE  SPINNERS 

going  to  be  married.  And  still  I  hope  she  is.  That's 
all  you  can  take  for  truth.  The  rest  is  rumour.  You 
can  guess  how  a  place  like  this  will  roll  it  over  their 
tongues." 

"  I'll  go  and  see  Mister  Churchouse." 
"  Do,  sir.     You  can  trust  him  to  be  charitable." 
Daniel  departed;  but  he  did  not  see  Ernest  Churchouse. 
The  antiquary  was  not  at  home  and,  instead,  he  heard 
Mrs.  Dinnett,  who  poured  the  approximate  truth  into  his 
ears    with   many    tears.     His    brother   had   promised    to 
marry  Sabina,  but  on  hearing  the  girl  was  with  child,  had 
apparently  refused  to  keep  his  engagement. 

Then  it  was  Daniel  Ironsyde's  turn  to  lose  his  temper. 
He  drove  straight  to  North  Hill  House,  found  his  brother 
in  the  garden  with  Estelle  Waldron,  took  him  aside  and 
discharged  him  from  the  Mill. 

Raymond  had  been  considering  the  position  and  grow- 
ing a  little  calmer.  With  a  return  of  more  even  temper, 
he  had  written  to  Miss  Ironsyde  and  promised  to  be  with 
her  on  the  following  evening  without  fail.  He  had  begged 
her  to  keep  an  open  mind  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  and 
he  hoped  that  when  the  time  came,  he  might  be  able  to 
trust  to  her  life-long  friendship.  What  he  was  going  to 
say,  he  did  not  yet  know;  but  he  welcomed  the  brief  res- 
pite and  was  in  a  good  temper  when  his  brother  chal- 
lenged him. 

The  attack  was  direct,  blunt  and  even  brutal.  It  burst 
like  a  thunder-bolt  on  Raymond's  head,  staggered  him,  and 
then,  of  course,  enraged  him. 

"  I  won't  keep  you,"  said  Daniel.  "  I  only  want  to 
know  one  thing.  Sabina  Dinnett's  going  to  have  a  baby. 
Are  you  the  father  of  it,  or  aren't  you?  " 

"  What  the  devil  business  is  that  of  yours  ?  " 
"  As  one  of  my  mill  hands,  I  consider  it  is  my  busi- 
ness.    One  thinks  of  them  as  human  beings   as   well  as 
machines  —  machines  for  work,  or  amusement  —  accord- 
ing to  the  point  of  view.     So  answer  me." 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  165 

"  You  cold-blooded  cur !  What  are  you  but  a  ma- 
chine? " 

"  Answer  my  question,  please." 

"  Go  to  hell." 

"  You  blackguard !  You  do  a  dirty,  cowardly  thing 
like  this,  despite  my  warnings  and  entreaties;  you  foul 
our  name  and  drag  it  in  the  gutter  and  then  aren't  man 
enough  to  acknowledge  it." 

The  younger  trembled  with  passion. 

"  Shut  your  mouth,  or  I'll  smash  your  face  in !  "  he 
cried. 

His  sudden  fury  calmed  his  brother. 

"  You  refuse  to  answer,  and  that  can  only  mean  one 
thing,  Raymond.  Then  I've  done  with  you.  You've 
dragged  us  all  through  the  mud  —  made  us  a  shame  and 
a  scandal  —  proud  people.  You  can  go  —  the  further 
off,  the  better.  I  dismiss  you  and  I  never  want  to  see  your 
face  again." 

"  Don't  worry  —  you  never  shall.  God's  my  judge,  I'd 
sooner  sweep  a  crossing  than  come  to  you  for  anything. 
I  know  you  well  enough.  You  always  meant  to  do  this. 
You  saved  your  face  when  my  father  robbed  me  from  the 
grave  and  left  me  a  pauper  —  you  saved  your  face  by 
putting  me  into  the  works ;  but  you  never  meant  me  to 
stop  there.  You  only  waited  your  chance  to  sack  me 
and  keep  the  lot  for  yourself.  And  you've  jumped  at 
this  and  were  glad  to  hear  of  this  —  damned  glad,  I'll 
bet!" 

Daniel  did  not  answer,  but  turned  his  back  on  his 
brother,  and  a  minute  or  two  later  was  driving  away. 
When  he  had  gone,  the  panting  Raymond  went  to  his 
room  and  flung  himself  on  his  bed.  Under  his  cooling 
anger  again  obtruded  the  old  satisfaction  —  amorphous, 
vile,  not  to  be  named  —  that  he  had  felt  before.  This 
brought  ultimate  freedom  a  step  nearer.  If  ostracism 
and  punishment  were  to  be  his  portion,  then  let  him  earn 
them.  If  the  world  —  his  world  —  was  to  turn  against 


166  THE  SPINNERS 

him,  let  the  reversal  be  for  something.  Poverty  would 
be  a  fair  price  for  liberty,  and  those  who  now  seemed  so 
ready  to  hound  him  out  of  his  present  life  and  crush  his 
future  prospects,  should  live  to  see  their  error.  For  a 
time  he  felt  savagely  glad  that  this  had  happened.  He 
regretted  his  letter  to  his  aunt;  he  thought  of  packing 
his  portmanteau  on  the  instant  and  vanishing  for  ever; 
yet  time  and  reflection  abated  his  dreams.  He  began  to 
grow  a  little  alarmed.  He  even  regretted  his  harsh  words 
to  his  brother  before  the  twilight  fell. 

Then  his  mind  was  occupied  with  Sabina;  but  Sabina 
had  wounded  him  to  the  quick,  for  it  was  clear  she  and  her 
mother  had  shamelessly  published  the  truth.  Sabina,  then, 
had  courted  ruin.  She  deserved  it.  He  soon  argued  that 
the  disaster  of  the  day  was  Sabina's  work,  and  he  dis- 
missed her  with  an  oath  from  his  thoughts.  Then  he 
turned  to  Miss  Ironsyde  and  found  keen  curiosity  waken 
to  know  what  she  was  thinking  and  feeling  about  him. 
Did  she  know  that  Daniel  had  dismissed  him?  Could  she 
have  listened  to  so  grave  a  determination  on  Daniel's  part 
and  taken  no  step  to  prevent  it? 

He  found  himself  deeply  concerned  at  being  flung  out  of 
his  brother's  business.  The  more  he  weighed  all  that  this 
must  mean  and  its  effect  upon  his  future,  the  more  over- 
whelmed he  began  to  be.  He  had  worked  very  hard  of 
late  and  put  all  his  energy  and  wits  into  spinning.  He 
was  beginning  to  understand  its  infinite  possibilities  and 
to  see  how,  Daniel's  trust  once  won,  he  might  have  ad- 
vanced their  common  welfare. 

From  this  point  he  ceased  to  regret  his  letter  to  Miss 
Ironsyde,  but  was  glad  that  he  had  written  it.  He  now 
only  felt  concerned  that  the  communication  was  not 
penned  with  some  trace  of  apology  for  his  past  indifference 
to  her  wishes.  He  began  to  see  that  his  sole  hope  now 
lay  with  his  aunt,  and  the  supreme  point  of  interest  centred 
in  her  attitude  to  the  situation. 

He  despatched  a  second  letter,  confirming  the  first,  and 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  167 

expressing  some  contrition  at  his  behaviour  to  her.  But 
this  rudeness  he  declared  to  have  been  the  result  of  pecu- 
liarly distressing  circumstances ;  and  he  assured  her,  that 
when  the  facts  came  to  her  ears,  she  would  find  no  diffi- 
culty in  forgiving  him. 

Their  meeting  was  fixed  for  the  following  evening,  and 
until  it  had  taken  place,  Raymond  told  nobody  of  what  had 
happened  to  him.  He  went  to  work  next  morning,  to 
learn  indirectly  whether  Best  had  heard  of  his  dismissal; 
but  it  seemed  the  foreman  had  not.  The  circumstance 
cheered  Raymond;  he  began  to  hope  that  his  brother  had 
changed  his  mind,  and  the  possibility  put  him  into  a 
sanguine  mood  at  once.  He  found  himself  full  of  good 
resolutions ;  he  believed  that  this  might  prove  the  turn- 
ing point;  he  expected  that  Daniel  would  arrive  at  any 
moment  and  he  was  prepared  frankly  to  express  deep  re- 
gret for  his  conduct  if  he  did  so.  But  Daniel  did  not 
come. 

Sabina  constantly  crossed  Raymond's  mind,  to  be  as 
constantly  dismissed  from  it.  He  was  aware  that  some- 
thing definite  must  be  done;  but  he  determined  not  even 
to  consider  the  situation  until  he  had  seen  his  aunt. 
A  hopeful  mood,  for  which  no  cause  existed,  somehow 
possessed  him  upon  this  day.  For  no  reason  and  spun 
of  nothing  in  the  least  tangible,  there  grew  around  him 
an  ambient  intuition  that  he  was  going  to  get  out  of 
this  fix  with  the  help  of  Jenny  Ironsyde.  The  impres- 
sion created  a  wave  of  generosity  to  Sabina.  He  felt 
a  large  magnanimity.  He  was  prepared  to  do  every- 
thing right  and  reasonable.  He  felt  that  his  aunt  would 
approve  the  line  he  purposed  to  take.  She  was  practical, 
and  he  assured  himself  that  she  would  not  consent  to 
pronounce  the  doom  of  marriage  upon  him. 

In  this  sanguine  spirit  Raymond  went  to  Bridport  and 
dined  at  '  The  Tiger  9  before  going  to  see  his  aunt  at  the 
appointed  time.  And  here  there  happened  events  to  upset 
the  level  optimism  that  had  ruled  him  all  day.  Raymond 


168  THE  SPINNERS 

had  the  little  back-parlour  to  himself  and  Richard  Gurd 
waited  upon  him.  They  spoke  of  general  subjects  and 
then  the  older  man  became  personal. 

"  If  you'll  excuse  me,  Mister  Raymond,"  he  said,  "  if 
you'll  excuse  me,  as  one  who's  known  you  ever  since  you 
went  out  of  knickers,  sir,  I'd  venture  to  warn  you  as  a 
good  friend,  against  a  lot  that's  being  said  in  Bridetown 
and  Bridport,  too.  You  know  how  rumours  fly  about. 
But  a  good  deal  more's  being  said  behind  your  back  than 
ought  to  be  said;  and  you'll  do  well  to  clear  it  up.  And 
by  the  same  token,  Mister  Motyer's  opening  his  mouth  the 
widest.  As  for  me,  I  got  it  from  Job  Legg  over  the  way 
at  '  The  Seven  Stars  ' ;  and  he  got  it  from  a  young  woman 
at  Bridetown  Mills,  niece  of  Missis  Northover.  So  these 
things  fly  about." 

Raymond  was  aware  that  Richard  Gurd  held  no  puritan 
opinions.  He  possessed  tolerance  and  charity  for  all  sorts 
and  conditions,  and  left  morals  alone. 

"  And  what  did  you  do,  Dick  ?  I  should  think  you'd 
learned  by  this  time  to  let  the  gossip  of  a  public-house  go 
in  at  one  ear  and  out  of  the  other." 

"  Yes  —  for  certain.  I  learned  to  do  that  before  you 
were  born ;  but  when  things  are  said  up  against  those  I 
value  and  respect,  it's  different.  I've  told  three  men  they 
were  liars,  to-day,  and  I  may  have  to  tell  thirty  so,  to- 
morrow." 

Raymond  felt  his  heart  go  slower. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Just  this :  they  say  you  promised  to  marry  a  mill  girl 
at  Bridetown  and  —  the  usual  sort  of  thing  — -  and,  know- 
ing you,  I  told  them  it  was  a  lie." 

The  young  man  uttered  a  scornful  ejaculation. 

"  Tell  them  to  mind  their  own  business,"  he  said. 
"  Good  heavens  —  what  a  storm  in  a  teacup  it  is  !  They 
couldn't  bleat  louder  if  I'd  committed  a  murder." 

"  There's  more  to  it  than  to  most  of  these  stories,"  ex- 
plained Richard.  "  You  see  it  sounds  a  very  disgraceful 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  169 

sort  of  thing,  you  being  your  brother's  right  hand  at 
the  works." 

"  I'm  not  that,  anyway." 

"  Well,  you're  an  Ironsyde,  Mister  Raymond,  and  to 
have  a  story  of  this  sort  told  about  an  Ironsyde  is  meat 
and  drink  for  the  baser  sort.  Sx>  I  hope  you'll  author- 
ise me  to  contradict  it." 

"  Good  God  —  is  there  no  peace,  even  here?  "  burst  out 
Raymond.  "  Can  even  a  man  I  thought  large-minded  and 
broad-minded  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  go  on  twaddling  about 
this  as  if  he  was  an  old  washer-woman  ?  Here  —  get  me 
my  bill  —  I've  finished.  And  if  you're  going  to  begin 
preaching  to  people  who  come  here  for  their  food  and 
drink,  you'd  better  chuck  a  pub  and  start  a  chapel." 

Mr.  Gurd  was  stricken  dumb.  A  thousand  ghosts  from 
the  grave  had  not  startled  him  so  much  as  this  rebuke. 
Indeed,  in  a  measure,  he  felt  the  rebuke  deserved,  and  it 
was  only  because  he  held  the  rumour  of  Raymond's  achieve- 
ments an  evil  lie,  that  he  had  cautioned  the  young  man,  and 
with  the  best  motives,  desired  to  put  him  on  his  guard. 
But  that  the  story  should  be  true  • —  or  based  on  truth  — 
as  now  appeared  from  Raymond's  anger,  had  never  oc- 
curred to  Richard.  Had  he  suspected  such  a  thing,  he 
must  have  deplored  it,  but  he  certainly  would  not  have 
mentioned  it. 

He  went  out  now  without  a  word  and  held  it  the  wisest 
policy  not  to  see  his  angry  customer  again  that  night. 
He  sent  Raymond's  account  in  by  a  maid,  and  the  young 
man  paid  it  and  went  out  to  keep  his  appointment  with 
Miss  Ironsyde. 

But  again  his  mood  was  changed.  Gurd  had  hit  him 
very  hard.  Indeed,  no  such  severe  blow  had  been  struck 
as  this  unconscious  thrust  of  Richard's.  For  it  meant 
that  an  incident  that  Raymond  was  striving  to  reconcile 
with  the  ways  of  youth  —  a  sowing  of  wild  oats  not 
destined  to  damage  future  crops  —  had  appeared  to  the 
easy-going  publican  as  a  thing  to  be  stoutly  contra- 


170  THE  SPINNERS 

dieted  —  an  act  quite  incompatible  with  Raymond's  record 
and  credit.  Coming  from  Gurd  this  attitude  signified  a 
great  deal ;  for  if  the  keeper  of  a  sporting  inn  took  such  a 
line  about  the  situation,  what  sort  of  line  were  others 
likely  to  take?  Above  all,  what  sort  of  line  would  his 
Aunt  Jenny  take  ?  His  nebulous  hopes  dwindled.  He  be- 
gan to  fear  that  she  would  find  the  honour  of  the  family 
depended  not  on  his  freeing  himself  from  Sabina,  but  the 
contrary. 

And  he  was  right.  Miss  Ironsyde  welcomed  him  kindly, 
but  left  no  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  her  opinion ;  and  the 
fact  that  the  situation  had  been  complicated  by  publicity, 
which  in  the  last  resort  he  argued,  by  no  means  turned 
her  from  her  ultimatum. 

"  Sit  down  and  smoke  and  listen  to  me,  Raymond,"  she 
began,  after  kissing  him.  "  I  forgive  you,  once  for  all, 
that  you  could  be  so  rude  to  me  and  fail  to  see  me  despite 
my  very  pressing  letter.  No  doubt  some  whim  or  sus- 
picion inspired  you  to  be  unkind.  But  that  doesn't  mat- 
ter now.  That's  a  trifle.  We've  got  to  thresh  out  some- 
thing that  isn't  a  trifle,  however,  for  your  honour  and 
good  name  are  both  involved  —  and  with  yours,  ours." 

"  I  argue  that  a  great  deal  too  much  is  being  made  of 
this,  Aunt  Jenny." 

"  I  hope  so  —  I  hope  everything  has  been  exaggerated 
through  a  misunderstanding.  Delay  in  these  cases  is  often 
simply  fatal,  Raymond,  because  it  gives  a  lie  a  start.  And 
if  you  give  a  lie  a  start,  it's  terribly  hard  to  catch. 
Sabina  Dinnett  came  to  see  me  on  Sunday  afternoon 
and  I  trust  with  all  my  heart  she  told  me  what  wasn't 
true." 

He  felt  a  sudden  gleam  of  hope  and  she  saw  it. 

"  Don't  let  any  cheerful  feeling  betray  you ;  this  is  far 
from  a  cheerful  subject  for  any  of  us.  But  again,  I  say, 
I  hope  that  Sabina  Dinnett  has  come  to  wrong  conclusions. 
What  she  said  was  this.  Trust  me  to  be  accurate,  and 
when  I  have  done,  correct  her  statement  if  it  is  false. 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  171 

Frankly,  I  thought  her  a  highly  intelligent  young  woman, 
with  grace  of  mind  and  fine  feeling.  She  was  fighting  for 
her  future  and  she  did  it  like  a  gentlewoman." 

Miss  Ironsyde  then  related  her  conversation  with  Sabina 
and  Raymond  knew  it  to  be  faithful  in  every  particular. 

"  Is  that  true,  or  isn't  it?  "  she  concluded. 

"  Yes,  it's  perfectly  true,  save  in  her  assumption  that  I 
had  changed  my  mind,"  he  said.  "  What  I  may  have 
done  since,  doesn't  matter ;  but  when  I  left  her,  I  had  not 
changed  my  mind  in  the  least ;  if  she  had  waited  for  me  to 
act  in  my  own  time,  and  come  to  see  you,  and  so  on,  as 
I  meant  to  do,  and  broken  it  to  Daniel  myself,  instead  of 
hearing  him  break  it  to  me  and  dismiss  me  as  though  I 
were  a  drunken  groom,  then  I  should  have  kept  my  word  to 
her.  But  these  things,  and  her  action,  and  the  fact  that 
she  and  her  fool  of  a  mother  have  bleated  the  story  all 
over  the  county  —  these  things  have  decided  me  it  would 
be  a  terrible  mistake  to  marry  ^Sabina  now.  She's  not 
what  I  thought.  Her  true  character  is  not  trustworthy 
—  in  fact  —  well,  you  must  see  for  yourself  that  they 
don't  trust  me  and  are  holding  a  pistol  to  my  head.  And 
no  man  is  going  to  stand  that.  We  could  never  be  mar- 
ried now,  because  she  hates  me.  There's  another  reason 
too  —  a  practical  one." 

"What?" 

"  Why,  the  best.  I'm  a  pauper.  Daniel  has  chucked 
me  out  of  the  works." 

Miss  Ironsyde  showed  very  great  distress. 

"  Do  you  honestly  mean  that  you  could  look  the  world 
in  the  face  if  you  ruin  this  woman?  " 

"  Why  use  words  like  that  ?  She's  not  ruined,  any 
more  than  thousands  of  other  women." 

"  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Raymond.  I  hope  to  God  you've 
never  said  a  thing  so  base  as  that  to  anybody  but  me. 
And  if  I  thought  you  meant  it,  I  think  it  would  break  my 
heart.  But  you  don't  mean  it.  You  loved  the  girl  and 
you  are  an  honourable  man  without  a  shadow  on  your 


172  THE  SPINNERS 

good  name  so  far.  You  loved  Sabina,  and  you  do  love  her, 
and  if  you  said  you  didn't  a  thousand  times,  I  should  not 
believe  it.  You're  chivalrous  and  generous,  and  that's 
the  precious  point  about  you.  Granted  that  she  made  a 
mistake,  is  her  mistake  to  wreck  her  whole  life?  Just 
think  how  she  felt  —  what  a  shock  you  gave  her.  You 
part  with  her  on  Saturday  the  real  Raymond,  fully  con- 
scious that  you  must  marry  her  at  once  —  for  her  own 
honour  and  yours.  Then  on  Sunday,  you  are  harsh  and 
cruel  —  for  no  visible  reason.  You  frighten  her ;  you 
raise  up  horrible  fears  and  dangers  in  her  young,  nerv- 
ous spirit.  She  is  in  a  condition  prone  to  terrors  and 
doubts,  and  upon  this  condition  you  came  in  a  surly 
mood  and  imply  that  you  yourself  are  changed.  What 
wonder  she  lost  her  head?  Yet  I  do  not  think  that  it 
was  to  lose  her  head  to  come  to  me.  She  had  often  heard 
you  speak  of  me.  She  knew  that  I  loved  you  well  and 
faithfully.  She  felt  that  if  anybody  could  put  this  dread- 
ful fear  to  rest,  I  should  be  the  one.  Don't  say  she  wasn't 
right." 

He  listened  attentively  and  began  to  feel  something  of 
his  aunt's  view. 

"  Forgive  her  first  for  coming  to  me.  If  mistaken,  ad- 
mit at  least  it  was  largely  your  own  fault  that  she  came. 
She  has  nothing  but  love  and  devotion  for  you.  She  told 
nothing  but  the  truth." 

He  asked  a  question,  which  seemed  far  from  the  point, 
but  none  the  less  indicated  a  coming  change  of  attitude. 
At  any  rate  Jenny  so  regarded  it. 

"  What  d'you  think  of  her?  " 

"  I  think  she's  a  woman  of  naturally  fine  character. 
She  has  brains  and  plenty  of  sense  and  if  she  had  not  loved 
you  unspeakably  and  been  very  emotional,  I  do  not  think 
this  could  have  happened  to  her." 

She  talked  on  quietly,  but  with  the  unconscious  force 
of  one  who  feels  her  subject  to  the  heart.  The  man 
began  to  yield  —  not  for  love  of  Sabina,  but  for  love  of 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  173 

himself.  For  Miss  Ironsyde  continued  to  make  him  see  his 
own  position  must  be  unbearable  if  he  persisted,  while  first 
she  implied  and  finally  declared,  that  only  through  mar- 
riage with  Sabina  could  his  own  position  be  longer  re- 
tained. 

But  he  put  forward  his  dismissal  as  an  argument  against 
marriage. 

"  Whatever  I  feel,  it's  too  late  now,"  he  explained. 
"  Daniel  heard  some  distorted  version  of  the  truth  in 
Bridetown,  and,  of  course,  believed  it,  and  came  to  me 
white  with  rage  and  sacked  me.  Well,  you  must  see  that 
alters  the  case  if  nothing  else  does.  Granted,  for  the 
sake  of  argument,  that  I  can  overlook  the  foolish,  clumsy 
way  she  and  her  mother  have  behaved  and  go  on  as  we 
were  going,  how  am  I  to  live  and  keep  a  wife  on  nothing?  " 

"  That  is  a  small  matter,"  she  answered.  "  You  need 
not  worry  about  it  in  the  least.  And  you  know  in  your 
heart,  my  dear,  you  need  not.  I  have  had  plenty  of  time 
to  think  over  this,  and  I  have  thought  over  it.  And  I  am 
very  ready  and  willing  to  come  between  you  and  any  tem- 
poral trouble  of  that  sort.  As  to  Daniel,  when  he  hears 
that  you  are  going  to  marry  and  always  meant  to  do  so, 
it  must  entirely  change  his  view  of  the  situation.  He  is 
just  and  reasonable.  None  can  deny  that." 

"  You  needn't  build  on  Daniel,  however.  I'd  rather 
break  stones  than  go  back  to  the  Mill  after  what  he  said 
to  me." 

"  Leave  him,  then.  Leave  him  out  of  your  calculation 
and  come  to  me.  As  I  tell  you,  I've  thought  about  it  a 
great  deal,  and  first  I  think  Sabina  is  well  suited  to  be  a 
good  wife  to  you.  With  time  and  application  she  will 
become  a  woman  that  any  man  might  be  proud  to  marry. 
I  say  that  without  prejudice,  because  I  honestly  think  it. 
She  is  adaptable,  and,  I  believe,  would  very  quickly  de- 
velop into  a  woman  in  every  way  worthy  of  your  real 
self.  And  I  am  prepared  to  give  you  five  hundred  a  year, 
Raymond.  After  all,  why  not?  All  that  I  have  is  yours 


THE  SPINNERS 

and  your  brother's,  some  day.     And  since  you  need  it 
now,  you  shall  have  it  now." 

At  another  time  he  had  been  moved  by  this  generosity; 
to-night,  knowing  what  it  embraced,  he  was  not  so  grateful 
as  he  might  have  been.  His  instinct  was  to  protest  that 
he  would  not  marry  Sabina ;  but  shame  prevented  him  from 
speaking,  since  he  could  advance  no  decent  reason  for 
such  a  change  of  mind.  He  felt  vaguely,  dimly  at  the 
bottom  of  his  soul  that,  despite  events,  he  ought  not  to 
marry  her.  He  believed,  apart  from  his  own  intense  aver- 
sion from  so  doing  now,  that  marriage  with  him  would 
not  in  the  long  run  conduce  to  Sabina's  happiness.  But 
where  were  the  words  capable  of  lending  any  conviction 
to  such  a  sentiment?  Certainly  he  could  think  of  none 
that  would  change  his  aunt's  opinion. 

Sullenly  he  accepted  her  view  with  outward  acknowl- 
edgment and  inward  resentment.  Then  she  said  a  thing 
that  nearly  made  him  rebel,  since  it  struck  at  his  pride, 
indicated  that  Miss  Ironsyde  was  sure  of  her  ground, 
showed  that  she  had  assumed  the  outcome  of  their  meet- 
ing before  the  event. 

First,  however,  he  thanked  her. 

"  Of  course,  it  is  amazingly  good  and  kind.  I  don't 
like  to  accept  it.  But  I  suppose  it  would  hurt  you  more  if 
I  didn't  than  if  I  do.  It's  a  condition  naturally  that  I 
marry  Sabina  —  I  quite  understand  that.  Well,  I  must 
then.  I  might  have  been  a  better  friend  to  her  if  I  hadn't 
married ;  and  might  love  her  better  and  love  her  longer  for 
that  matter.  But,  of  course,  I  can't  expect  you  to  un- 
derstand that.  I  only  want  to  be  sporting,  and  a  man's 
idea  of  being  sporting  isn't  the  same " 

"  Now,  now  —  you're  forgetting  and  talking  nonsense, 
Raymond.  You  really  are  forgetting.  A  man's  idea  of 
being  *  sporting '  does  not  mean  telling  stories  to  a  trust- 
ing and  loving  girl,  does  it?  I  don't  want  anybody  to 
judge  you  but  yourself.  I  am  perfectly  content  to  leave 
it  to  your  own  conscience.  And  very  sure  I  am  that 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  175 

if  you  ask  yourself  the  question,  you'll  answer  it  as  it 
should  be  answered.  So  sure,  indeed,  that  I  have  done  a 
definite  thing  about  it,  which  I  will  tell  you  in  a  moment. 
For  the  rest  you  must  find  'a  house  where  you  please  and 
be  married  as  soon  as  you  can.  And  when  Daniel  un- 
derstands what  a  right  and  proper  thing  you're  doing,  I 
think  you'll  very  soon  find  all  will  be  satisfactory  again  in 
that  quarter." 

"  Thank  you,  I'm  sure.  But  don't  speak  to  him  yet. 
I  won't  ask  for  favours  nor  let  you,  Aunt  Jenny.  If  he 
comes  to  me,  well  and  good  —  I  certainly  won't  go  to  him. 
As  to  Sabina,  we'll  clear  out  and  get  married  in  a  day  or 
two." 

"  Not  before  a  Registrar,"  pleaded  Miss  Ironsyde. 

"  Before  the  Devil  I  should  think,"  he  said,  preparing 
to  leave  her. 

She  chid  him  and  then  mentioned  certain  preparations 
made  for  this  particular  evening. 

"  Don't  be  cross  any  more,  and  let  me  see  you  value  my 
good  will  and  love,  Ray,  by  doing  what  I'm  going  to  ask 
you  to  do,  now.  So  sure  was  I  that,  when  the  little  de- 
tails were  cleared  up,  you  would  feel  with  me,  and  wel- 
come your  liberty  from  constraint,  and  return  to  Sabina 
with  the  good  news,  that  I  asked  her  to  meet  you  to-night 
—  this  very  night,  my  dear,  so  that  you  might  go  home 
with  her  and  make  her  happy.  She  had  tea  with  me  — 
I  made  her  come,  and  then  she  went  to  friends,  and  she  will 
be  in  the  Lovers'  Grove  waiting  for  you  at  ten  o'clock  — 
half  an  hour  from  now." 

His  impulse  was  to  protest,  but  he  recognised  the  futil- 
ity for  so  doing.  He  felt  baffled  and  cowed  and  weary. 
He  hated  himself  because,  weakened  by  poverty,  an  old 
woman  had  been  too  much  for  him.  He  clutched  at  a  hope. 
Perhaps  by  doing  as  his  aunt  desired  and  going  through 
with  this  thing,  he  would  find  his  peace  of  mind  return 
and  a  consciousness  that,  after  all,  to  keep  his  promise 
was  the  only  thing  which  would  renew  his  self-respect, 


176  THE  SPINNERS 

It  might  prove  the  line  of  least  resistance  to  take  this 
course.  He  felt  not  sorry  at  the  immediate  prospect  of 
meeting  Sabina.  In  his  present  mood  that  might  be  a 
good  thing  to  happen.  Annoyance  passed,  and  when  he 
did  take  leave  it  was  with  more  expressions  of  gratitude. 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  are  so  extraordinarily  good  to 
me,"  he  said.  "  I  certainly  don't  deserve  it.  But  the 
least  I  can  do  is  throw  up  the  sponge  and  do  as  you  will, 
and  trust  your  judgment.  I  don't  say  I  agree  with  you, 
but  I'm  going  to  do  it ;  and  if  it's  a  failure,  I  shan't 
blame  you,  Aunt  Jenny." 

"  It  won't  be  a  failure.  I'm  as  sure  as  I'm  sure  of  any- 
thing that  it  will  be  a  splendid  success,  Raymond.  Come 
again,  very  soon,  and  tell  me  what  you  decide  about  a 
house.  And  remember  one  thing  —  don't  fly  away  and 
take  a  house  goodness  knows  where.  Always  reckon  with 
the  possibility  —  I  think  certainty  —  that  Daniel  will 
soon  be  friendly,  when  he  hears  you're  going  to  be  mar- 
ried." 

He  left  her  very  exhausted,  and  if  her  spirits  sank  a  little 
after  his  departure,  Raymond's  tended  to  rise.  The  night 
air  and  moonlight  brisked  him  up;  he  felt  a  reaction  to- 
wards Sabina  and  perceived  that  she  must  have  suffered 
a  good  deal.  He  threw  the  blame  on  her  mother.  Once 
out  of  Bridetown  things  would  settle  down ;  and  if  his 
brother  came  to  his  senses  and  asked  him  to  return,  he 
would  make  it  a  condition  that  he  worked  henceforth  at 
Bridport.  A  feeling  of  hatred  for  Bridetown  mastered 
him. 

He  descended  West  Street  until  the  town  lay  behind 
him,  then  turned  to  the  left  through  a  wicket,  crossed 
some  meadows  and  reached  a  popular  local  tryst  and 
sanctity:  the  Lovers'  Grove.  A  certain  crudity  in  the 
ideas  of  Miss  Ironsyde  struck  Raymond.  How  simple 
and  primitive  she  was  after  all.  Could  such  an  unworldly 
and  inexperienced  woman  be  right?  He  doubted  it.  But 
be  went  on  through  the  avenue  of  lime  and  sycamore  trees 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  177 

which  made  the  traditional  grove.  Beneath  them  ran 
pavement  of  rough  stones,  that  lifted  the  pathway  above 
possible  inundation,  and,  to-night,  the  pattern  of  the 
naked  boughs  above  was  thrown  down  upon  the  stones  in 
a  black  lace  work  by  the  moon.  The  place  was  very  still, 
but  half  a  mile  distant  there  dreamed  great  woods,  whence 
came  the  hooting  of  an  owl. 

Raymond  stood  to  listen,  and  when  the  bird  was  silent, 
he  heard  a  footfall  ring  on  the  paving-stones  and  saw 
Sabina  coming  to  him.  At  heart  she  had  been  fearful  that 
he  would  not  appear;  but  this  she  did  not  whisper  now. 
Instead  she  pretended  confidence  and  said,  "  I  knew  you'd 


come! 


I  99 


He  responded  with  fair  ardour  and  tried  to  banish  his 
grievances  against  her.  He  assured  her  that  all  her  alarm 
and  tribulation  were  not  his  fault,  but  her  own;  and  her 
responsive  agreement  and  servile  tact,  by  its  self-evidence 
defeated  its  own  object  and  fretted  the  man's  nerves,  de- 
spite his  kindly  feelings.  For  Sabina,  in  her  unspeakable 
thankfulness  at  the  turn  of  events,  sank  from  herself  and 
was  obsequious.  When  they  met  he  kissed  her  and  pres- 
ently, holding  his  hand,  she  kissed  it.  She  heaped  blame 
upon  herself  and  praised  his  magnanimity;  she  presented 
the  ordinary  phenomena  of  a  happy  release  from  affliction 
and  fear ;  but  her  intense  humility  was  far  from  agreeable 
to  Raymond,  since  its  very  accentuation  served  to  show 
his  own  recent  actions  in  painful  colours. 

He  told  her  what  his  aunt  was  going  to  do ;  and  where 
a  subtler  mind  had  held  its  peace,  Sabina  erred  again  and 
praised  Miss  Ironsyde.  In  truth,  she  was  not  at  her 
best  to-night  and  her  excitement  acted  unfavourably  on 
Raymond.  He  fought  against  his  own  emotions,  and 
listened  to  her  high-strung  chatter  and  plans  for  the 
future.  A  torrent  of  blame  had  better  suited  the  contrite 
mood  in  which  she  met  him ;  but  she  took  the  blame  on  her 
own  shoulders,  and  in  her  relief  said  things  sycophantic 
and  untrue. 


178  THE  SPINNERS 

He  told  her  almost  roughly  to  stop. 

"  For  God's  sake  don't  blackguard  yourself  any  more," 
he  said.  "  Give  me  a  chance.  It's  for  me  to  apologise  to 
you,  surely.  I  knew  perfectly  well  you  meant  nothing,  and 
I  ought  to  have  had  more  imagination  and  not  given  you 
any  cause  to  be  nervous.  I  frightened  you,  and  if  a 
woman's  frightened,  of  course,  she's  not  to  be  blamed  for 
what  she  does,  any  more  than  a  man's  to  be  blamed  for 
what  he  does  when  he's  drunk." 

This,  however,  she  would  not  allow. 

"  If  I  had  trusted  you,  and  known  you  could  not  do 
wrong,  and  remembered  what  you  said  when  I  told  you 
about  the  child  —  then  all  this  would  have  been  escaped. 
And  God  knows  I  did  trust  you  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart 
all  the  time." 

She  talked  on  and  the  man  tired  of  it  and,  looking  far 
ahead,  perceived  that  his  life  must  be  shared  for  ever 
with  a  nature  only  now  about  to  be  revealed  to  him.  He 
had  seen  the  best  of  her;  but  he  had  never  seen  the  whole 
truth  of  her.  He  knew  she  was  excitable  and  passionate ; 
but  the  excitation  and  passion  had  all  been  displayed  for 
him  till  now.  How  different  when  she  approached  other 
affairs  of  life  than  love,  and  brought  her  emotional  char- 
acteristics to  bear  upon  them!  A  sensation  of  unutter- 
able flatness  overtook  Raymond.  She  began  talking  of 
finding  a  house,  and  was  not  aware  that  his  brother  had 
dismissed  him. 

He  snatched  an  evil  pleasure  from  telling  her  so.  It 
silenced  her  and  made  her  the  more  oppressively  submis- 
sive. But  through  this  announcement  he  won  temporary 
release.  There  came  a  longing  to  leave  her,  to  go  back  to 
Bridport  and  see  other  faces,  hear  other  voices  and 
speak  of  other  things.  They  had  walked  homeward 
through  the  valley  of  the  river  and,  at  West  Haven,  Ray- 
mond announced  that  she  must  go  the  remainder  of  the 
way  alone.  He  salved  the  unexpected  shock  of  this  with  a 
cheerful  promise. 


THE  LOVERS'  GROVE  179 

"  I  sleep  at  Bridport,  to-night,"  he  said,  "  and  I'll  leave 
you  here,  Sabina ;  but  be  quite  happy.  I  dare  say  Daniel 
will  be  all  right.  He's  a  pious  blade  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing  and  doesn't  understand  real  life.  And  as  some  fool 
broke  our  bit  of  real  life  rather  roughly  on  his  ear,  it  was 
too  much  for  his  weak  nerves.  I  shan't  take  you  very  far 
off  anyway.  We'll  have  a  look  round  soon.  I'll  go  to  a 
house  agent  or  somebody  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  You  must  choose,"  she  said. 

"  No,  no  —  that's  up  to  you,  and  you  mustn't  have 
small  ideas  about  it  either.  You're  going  to  live  in  a  j  oily 
good  house,  I  promise  you." 

This  sweetened  the  parting.  He  kissed  her  and  turned 
his  face  to  Bridport,  while  she  followed  the  road  home- 
ward. It  took  her  past  the  old  store  — » black  as  the  night 
under  a  roof  silvered  by  the  moon.  A  strange  shiver  ran 
through  her  as  she  passed  it.  She  could  have  prayed  for 
time  to  turn  back. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  if  1  was  a  maiden  again !  "  she  said  in  a 
low  voice  to  herself. 

Then,  growing  calmer  and  musing  of  the  past  rather 
than  the  future,  she  asked  herself  whether  in  that  case  she 
would  still  be  caring  for  Raymond;  but  she  turned  from 
such  a  thought  and  smothered  the  secret  indignation  still 
lying  red-hot  and  hidden  under  the  smoke  of  the  things  she 
had  said  to  him  that  night. 

On  his  way  to  Bridport,  the  man  also  reflected,  but  of 
the  future,  not  the  past. 

"  I  must  be  cruel  to  be  kind,"  he  told  himself.  What 
he  exactly  meant  by  the  assurance,  he  hardly  knew.  But, 
in  some  way,  it  assisted  self-respect  and  promised  a  course 
of  action  likely  to  justify  his  coming  life. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

JOB  LEGO'S  AMBITION 

A  DISQUIETING  and  wholly  unexpected  event  now  broke  into 
the  strenuous  days  of  the  mistress  of  '  The  Seven  Stars.' 
It  followed  another,  which  was  now  a  thing  of  the  past; 
but  Mrs.  Northover  had  scarcely  finished  being  thankful 
that  the  old  order  was  restored  again,  when  that  occurred 
to  prove  the  old  order  could  never  be  restored. 

Job  Legg  had  been  called  away  to  the  deathbed  of  an 
aged  uncle.  For  a  fortnight  he  was  absent,  and  during 
that  time  Nelly  Northover  found  herself  the  victim  of  a 
revelation.  She  perceived,  indeed,  startling  truths  until 
then  hidden  from  her,  and  found  the  absence  of  Job 
created  undreamed-of  complications.  At  every  turn  she 
missed  the  man  and  discovered,  very  much  to  her  own 
surprise,  that  this  most  unassuming  person  appeared  vital 
to  the  success  of  her  famous  house.  On  every  hand  she 
heard  the  same  words ;  all  progress  was  suspended ;  noth- 
ing could  advance  until  the  return  of  Mr.  Legg.  '  The 
Seven  Stars  '  were  arrested  in  their  courses  while  he  con- 
tinued absent. 

Thus  his  temporary  disappearance  affected  the  system 
and  proved  that  around  the  sun  of  Job  Legg,  quite  as 
much  as  his  mistress,  the  galaxy  revolved;  but  something 
more  than  this  remained  to  be  discovered  by  Mrs.  North- 
over  herself.  She  found  that  not  only  had  she  under- 
valued his  significance  and  importance  in  her  scheme  of 
things ;  but  that  she  entertained  a  personal  regard  for 
the  man,  unsuspected  until  he  was  absent.  She  missed 
him  at  every  turn;  and  when  he  came  back  to  her,  after 

180 


JOB  LEGG'S  AMBITION  181 

burying  his  uncle,  Mrs.  Northover  could  have  kissed 
him. 

This  she  did  not  do;  but  she  was  honest;  she  related 
the  suspension  of  many  great  affairs  for  need  of  Job ;  she 
described  to  him  the  dislocation  that  his  departure  had 
occasioned  and  declared  her  hearty  thankfulness  that  her 
right  hand  had  returned  to  her. 

"  You  was  uppermost  in  my  mind  a  thousand  times  a 
day,  Job;  and  when  it  came  to  doing  the  fifty  thousand 
things  you  do,  I  began  to  see  what  there  is  to  you,"  said 
Nelly  Northover.  "  And  this  I'll  say :  you  haven't  been 
getting  enough  money  along  with  me." 

He  was  pleased  and  smiled  and  thanked  her. 

"  I've  missed  '  The  Stars,'  "  he  said,  "  and  am  very  glad 
to  be  back." 

Then  when  things  were  settled  down  and  Mrs.  North- 
over  happy  and  content  once  more,  Mr.  Legg  cast  her 
into  much  doubt  and  uncertainty.  Indeed  his  attitude  so 
unexpected,  awoke  a  measure  of  dismay.  Life,  that  Nelly 
hoped  was  becoming  static  and  comfortable  again,  sud- 
denly grew  highly  dynamic.  Changes  stared  her  in  the 
face  and  that  was  done  which  nothing  could  undo. 

On  the  night  that  Raymond  Ironsyde  left  Sabina  at 
West  Haven  and  returned  to  Bridport,  Mr.  Legg,  the 
day's  work  done,  drank  a  glass  of  sloe  gin  in  Mrs.  North- 
over's  little  parlour  and  uttered  a  startling  proposition 
—  the  last  to  have  been  expected. 

The  landlady  herself  unconsciously  opened  the  way  to 
it,  for  she  touched  the  matter  of  his  wages  and  announced 
her  purpose  to  increase  them  by  five  shillings  a  week. 
Then  he  spoke. 

"  Before  we  talk  about  that,  hear  me,"  he  said.  "  You 
were  too  nice-minded  to  ask  me  if  I  got  anything  by  the 
death  of  my  old  man;  but  I  may  tell  you,  that  I  got 
everything.  And  there  was  a  great  deal  more  than  any- 
body knew.  In  short  he's  left  me  a  shade  over  two  hun- 
dred pounds  per  annum,  and  that  with  my  own  savings  — 


188  THE  SPINNERS 

for  I've  saved  since  I  was  thirteen  years  old  —  brings 
my  income  somewhere  near  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  mark 
—  not  counting  wages." 

"  Good  powers,  Job !  But  I  am  glad.  Never  none 
on  earth  deserved  a  bit  better  than  you  do." 

"  And  yet,"  he  said,  u  I  only  ask  myself  if  all  this  lifts 
me  high  enough  to  say  what  I  want  to  say.  You  know 
me  for  a  modest  man,  Mrs.  Northover." 

"  None  more  so,  Job." 

"  And  therefore  I've  thought  a  good  deal  about  it  and 
come  to  it  by  the  way  of  reason  as  well  as  inclination.  In 
fact  I  began  to  think  about  what  I'm  going  to  say  now, 
many  years  ago  after  your  husband  died.  And  I  just 
let  the  idea  go  on  till  the  appointed  time,  if  ever  it  should 
come;  and  when  my  uncle  died  and  left  a  bit  over  four 
thousand  pounds  to  me,  I  felt  the  hour  had  struck !  " 

Nelly's  heart  sank. 

"  You're  going?  "  she  said.  "  All  this  means  that  you 
are  going  into  business  on  your  own,  Legg." 

"  Let  me  finish.  But  be  sure  of  one  thing ;  I'm  not  going 
if  I  can  stay  with  peace  and  honour.  If  I  can't,  then,  of 
course,  I  must  go.  To  go  would  be  a  terrible  sad  thing 
for  me,  for  I've  grown  into  this  place  and  feel  as  much  a 
part  of  it  as  the  beer  engine,  or  the  herbaceous  border. 
But  I  had  to  weigh  the  chances,  and  I  may  say  my  cautious 
bent  of  mind  showed  very  clearly  what  they  were.  And, 
so,  first,  I'll  tell  what  a  flight  I've  took  and  what  a 
thought  I've  dared,  and  then  I'll  ask  you,  being  a  woman 
with  a  quick  mind  and  tongue,  to  answer  nothing  for  the 
moment,  and  say  no  word  that  you  may  wish  to  recall 
after." 

"  All  very  wise  and  proper,  I'm  sure." 

"  If  it  ain't,  God  forgive  me,  seeing  I've  been  working  it 
out  in  my  mind  for  very  near  twenty  years.  And  I  say 
this,  that  being  now  a  man  of  capital,  and  a  healthy  and 
respectable  man,  and  well  thought  of,  I  believe,  and  noth- 


JOB  LEGG'S  AMBITION  183 

ing  against  me  to  my  knowledge,  I  offer  to  marry  you, 
Nelly  Northover.  The  idea,  of  course,  comes  upon  you 
like  a  bolt  from  the  blue,  as  I  can  see  by  your  face;  but 
before  you  answer  *  No,'  I  must  say  I've  loved  you  in  a 
respectful  manner  for  many  years,  and  though  I  knew 
my  place  too  well  to  say  so,  I  let  it  appear  by  faithful 
service  and  very  sharp  eyes  always  on  your  interests  — 
day  and  night  you  may  say." 

"  That  is  true,"  she  said.  "  I  didn't  know  my  luck." 
"  I  don't  say  that.  Any  honourable  man  would  have 
done  so  much,  very  likely ;  but  perhaps  -*—  however,  I'm  not 
here  to  praise  myself  but  to  praise  you ;  and  I  may  add  I 
never  in  a  large  experience  saw  the  woman  —  maid,  wife  or 
widow  —  to  hold  a  candle  to  you  for  brains  and  energy  and 
far-reaching  fine  qualities  in  general.  And  therefore  I 
never  could  be  worthy  of  you,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  it, 
and  the  man  who  did  would  be  a  very  vain  and  windy  fool ; 
but  such  is  my  high  opinion  and  great  desire  to  be  your 
husband  that  I  risk,  you  may  say,  everything  by  offering 
myself." 

"  This  is  a  very  great  surprise,  Job." 
"  So  great  that  you  must  do  me  one  good  turn  and'  not 
.answer  without  letting  it  sink  in,  if  you  please.  I  have  a 
right  to  beg  that.  Of  course  I  know  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment  the  really  nice-minded  woman  always  turns  down 
the  adventurous  male.  'Tis  their  delicate  instinct  so  to 
do.  But  you  won't  do  that  —  for  fairness  to  me.  And 
there's  more  to  it  yet,  because  we've  got  to  think  of  fair- 
ness to  you  also.  I  wouldn't  have  you  buy  a  pig  in  a 
poke  and  take  a  man  of  means  without  knowing  where 
you  stood.  So  I  may  say  that  if  you  presently  felt  the 
same  as  I  do  about  it,  I  should  spend  a  bit  of  my  capital  on 
*  The  Seven  Stars,'  which,  in  my  judgment,  is  now  crying 
for  capital  expenditure." 

"  It  is,"  admitted  Mrs.  Northover,  "  I  grant  you  that." 
"  Very  well,  then.     It  would  be  my  pride " 


184.  THE  SPINNERS 

He  was  interrupted,  for  the  bell  of  the  inn  rang  and  a 
moment  later  Raymond  Ironsyde  appeared  in  the  hall. 
He  had  come  for  supper  and  bed. 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Northover,"  he  said.  "  I'm  be- 
lated and  starving  into  the  bargain.  Have  you  got  a 
room?  " 

"  For  that  matter,  yes,"  she  answered  not  very  enthusi- 
astically. "  But  surely  *  The  Tiger's  '  your  house,  sir?  " 

"  I'm  not  bound  to  *  The  Tiger,'  and  very  likely  shall 
never  go  there  again.  Gurd  is  getting  too  big  for  his 
shoes  and  seems  to  think  he's  called  upon  to  preach  sermons 
to  his  customers,  besides  doing  his  duty  as  a  publican.  If 
I  want  sermons  I  can  go  to  church  for  them,  not  to  an 
inn.  Give  me  some  supper  and  a  bottle  of  your  best  claret. 
I'm  tired  and  bothered." 

A  customer  was  a  customer  and  Mrs.  Northover  had  far 
too  much  experience  to  take  up  the  cudgels  for  her  friend 
over  the  way.  She  guessed  pretty  accurately  at  the  sub- 
ject of  Richard  Gurd's  discourse,  yet  wondered  that  he 
should  have  spoken.  For  her  own  part,  while  quite  as 
indignant  as  others  and  more  sorry  than  many  that  this 
cloud  should  have  darkened  a  famous  local  name,  she  held 
it  no  personal  business  of  hers. 

"  I'll  see  what  cold  meat  we've  got.  Would  you  like  a 
chicken,  sir?  " 

"  No  —  beef,  and  plenty  of  it.  And  let  me  have  a 
room." 

Job  Legg,  concealing  the  mighty  matters  in  his  own 
bosom,  soon  waited  upon  Raymond  and  found  him  in  a 
sulky  humour.  The  claret  was  not  to  his  liking  and  he 
ordered  spirits.  He  began  to  smoke  and  drink,  and  from 
an  unamiable  mood  soon  thawed  and  became  talkative. 
He  bade  Job  stay  and  listen  to  him. 

"  I've  got  a  hell  of  a  lot  on  my  mind,"  he  said,  "  and 
it's  a  relief  to  talk  to  a  sensible  man.  There  aren't  many 
knocking  about  so  far  as  I  can  see." 

He  rambled  on  touching  indirectly,  as  he  imagined,  at 


JOB  LEGG'S  AMBITION  185 

his  own  affairs,  but  making  it  clear  to  the  listener  that  a 
very  considerable  tumult  raged  in  Raymond's  own  mind. 
Then  came  Mrs.  Northover,  told  the  guest  that  it  was 
nearer  two  o'clock  than  one,  and  hoped  he  was  soon  going 
to  bed. 

He  promised  to  do  so  and  she  departed ;  but  the  faithful 
Job,  himself  not  sleepy,  kept  Raymond  company.  Un- 
availingly  he  urged  the  desirability  of  sleep,  but  young 
Ironsyde  sat  on  until  he  was  very  drunk.  Then  Mr.  Legg 
helped  him  upstairs  and  assisted  him  to  his  bed. 

It  was  after  three  o'clock  before  he  retired  himself  and 
found  his  mind  at  liberty  to  speculate  upon  the  issue  of  his 
own  great  adventure. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  CONFERENCE 

JENNY  IRONSYDE  came  to  see  Ernest  Churchouse  upon  the 
matter  of  the  marriage.  She  found  him  pensive  and  a 
little  weary.  According  to  his  custom  he  indulged  in  ideas 
before  approaching  the  subject  just  then  uppermost  in  all 
minds  in  Bridetown. 

"  I  have  been  suffering  from  rather  a  severe  dose  of 
the  actual,"  he  said ;  "  at  present,  in  the  minds  of  those 
about  me,  there  is  no  room  for  any  abstraction.  We  are 
confronted  with  facts  —  painful  facts  —  a  most  depress- 
ing condition  for  such  a  mind  as  mine.  There  are  three 
orders  of  intelligence,  Jenny.  The  lowest  never  reaches 
higher  than  the  discussion  of  persons ;  the  second  talks 
about  places,  which  is  certainly  better ;  the  third  soars  into 
the  region  of  ideas ;  and  when  one  finds  a  person  indulge 
in  ideas,  then  court  their  friendship,  for  ideas  are  the  only 
sound  basis  of  intellectual  interchanges.  It  is  so  strange 
to  see  an  educated  person,  who  might  be  discussing  the 
deepest  mysteries  and  noblest  problems  of  life,  preferring 
to  relate  the  errors  of  a  domestic  servant,  or  deplore  the 
price  of  sprats." 

"  All  very  well  for  you,"  declared  Miss  Ironsyde ;  "  from 
your  isolated  situation,  above  material  cares  and  anxieties, 
you  can  affect  this  superiority ;  but  what  about  Mrs.  Din- 
nett?  You  would  very  soon  be  grumbling  if  Mrs.  Dinnett 
put  the  deepest  mysteries  and  noblest  problems  of  life 
before  the  price  of  sprats.  It  is  true  that  man  cannot 
live  by  bread  alone ;  and  it  is  equally  true  that  he  cannot 
live  without  it.  The  highest  flights  are  impossible  with- 
out cooking,  and  cooking  would  be  impossible  if  all  aspired 

to  the  highest  flights." 

186 


A  CONFERENCE  187 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mrs.  Dinnett  is  my  present  source 
of  depression,"  he  said.  "  All  is  going  as  it  should  go,  I 
suppose.  The  young  people  are  reconciled,  and  I  have 
arranged  that  Sabina  should  be  married  from  here  a  fort- 
night hence.  Thus,  as  it  were,  I  shield  and  protect  her 
and  support  her  against  back-biting  and  evil  tongues." 

"  It  is  splendid  of  you." 

"  Far  from  it.  I  am  only  doing  the  obvious.  I  care 
much  for  the  girl.  But  Mary  Dinnett,  despite  the  need 
to  be  sanguine  and  expeditious,  permits  herself  an  amount 
of  obstinate  melancholy  which  is  most  ill-judged  and  quite 
unjustified  by  the  situation.  Nothing  will  satisfy  her. 
She  scorns  hope.  She  declines  to  take  a  cheerful  view. 
She  even  confesses  to  a  premonition  they  are  not  going 
to  be  married  after  all.  She  says  that  her  grandmother 
had  second  sight -and  believes  that  the  doubtful  gift  has 
been  handed  down  to  her." 

"  This  is  very  bad  for  Sabina." 

"  Of  course  it  is.  I  impress  that  upon  her  mother. 
The  girl  has  been  through  a  great  deal.  She  is  highly 
strung  at  all  times,  and  these  affairs  have  wrought  havoc 
with  her  intelligence  for  the  moment.  Her  one  thought 
and  feverish  longing  is  to  be  married,  and  her  mother's 
fatuous  prophecies  that  she  never  will  be  are  causing 
serious  nervous  trouble  to  Sabina.  I  feel  sure  of  it. 
They  may  even  be  doing  permanent  harm." 

"  You  should  suppress  Mary." 

"  I  endeavour  to  do  so.  I  put  much  serving  upon  her ; 
but  her  frame  of  mind  is  such  that  her  energy  is  equal  to 
anything.  You  had  better  see  her  and  caution  her.  From 
another  woman,  words  of  wisdom  would  carry  more  weight 
than  mine.  As  to  Sabina,  I  have  warned  her  against  her 
mother  —  a  strong  thing  to  do,  but  I  felt  it  to  be  my 
duty." 

They  saw  Mary  Dinnett  then,  and  Miss  Ironsyde  quickly 
realised  that  there  were  subtle  tribulations  and  shades  of 
doubt  in  the  mother's  mind  beyond  Mr.  Churchouse's  power 


188  THE  SPINNERS 

to  appreciate.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Dinnett,  encouraged  so  to 
do  by  the  sympathetic  presence  of  Jenny  Ironsyde,  strove 
to  give  reasons  for  her  continued  gloom. 

"  You  must  be  more  hopeful  and  put  a  brighter  face  on 
it,  Mary,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  the  young  people,"  de- 
clared the  visitor.  "  You're  not  approaching  the  mar- 
riage from  the  right  point  of  view.  We  must  forget  the 
past  and  keep  our  minds  on  the  future  and  proceed  with 
this  affair  just  as  though  it  were  an  ordinary  marriage 
without  any  disquieting  features.  We  have  to  remember 
that  they  love  each  other  and  really  are  well  suited.  The 
future  is  chequered  by  certain  differences  between  my 
nephews,  which  have  not  yet  been  smoothed  out;  but  I  am 
sure  that  they  will  be;  and  meantime  you  need  feel  no 
fear  of  any  inconvenience  for  Sabina.  I  am  responsible." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  said  Mrs.  Dinnett,  "  and  your  name 
is  in  my  prayers  when  I  rise  up  and  when  I  go  to  bed. 
But  while  there's  a  lot  other  people  can  do  for  'em,  there's 
also  a  deal  they  can  only  do  for  themselves ;  and,  in  my 
opinion,  they  are  not  doing  it.  It's  no  good  us  play- 
acting and  forgetting  the  past  and  pretending  everything 
is  just  as  it  should  be,  if  they  won't." 

"  But  they  have." 

"  Sabina  has.  I  doubt  if  he  has.  I  don't  know  how  you 
find  him,  but  when  I  see  him  he's  not  in  a  nice  temper  and 
not  taking  the  situation  in  the  spirit  of  a  happy  bride- 
groom —  very  far  from  it.  And  my  second-sight,  which 
I  get  from  my  grandmother,  points  to  one  thing:  that 
there  won't  be  no  wedding." 

"  This  is  preposterous,"  declared  Miss  Ironsyde.  "  The 
day  is  fixed  and  every  preparation  far  advanced." 

"  That's  nought  to  a  wayward  mind  like  his.  He's 
got  in  a  state  now  when  I  wouldn't  trust  him  a  yard.  And 
I  hope  to  God  you'll  hold  the  reins  tight,  miss,  and  not 
slacken  till  they're  man  and  wife.  Once  let  him  see  his 
way  clear  to  bolt,  and  bolt  he  will." 

Mr.    Churchouse  protested,   while   Jenny   only   sighed. 


A  CONFERENCE  189 

Sabina's  mother  was  echoing  her  own  secret  uneasiness, 
but  she  lamented  that  others  had  marked  it  as  well  as 
herself. 

"  He  is  in  a  very  moody  state,  but  never  speaks  of  any 
change  of  mind  to  me." 

"  Because  he  well  knows  you  hold  the  purse,"  said  Mrs. 
Dinnett.  "  I  don't  want  to  say  anything  uncharitable 
against  the  man,  though  I  might ;  but  I  will  say  that  there's 
danger  and  that  I  do  well  to  be  a  miserable  woman  till  the 
danger's  past.  You  tell  me  to  cheer  up,  and  I  promise 
to  cheer  up  quick  enough  when  there's  reason  to  do  so. 
Mr.  Churchouse  here  is  the  best  gentleman  on  God's  earth ; 
but  he  don't  understand  a  mother's  heart  —  how  should 
he?  and  he  don't  know  what  a  lot  women  have  got  to  hide 
from  men  —  for  their  own  self-respect,  and  because  men 
as  a  body  are  such  clumsy-minded  fools  —  speaking  gen- 
erally, of  course." 

To  see  even  Mrs.  Dinnett  dealing  thus  in  ideas  excited 
Ernest  and  filled  him  with  interest.  He  forgot  every- 
thing but  the  principle  she  asserted  and  would  have  dis- 
cussed it  for  an  hour ;  but  Mary,  having  thus  hit  back  ef- 
fectively, departed,  and  Miss  Ironsyde  brought  the  master 
of  '  The  Magnolias  '  back  to  tK^ir  subject. 

"  There's  a  lot  of  truth  in  what  she  says  and  it  shows 
how  trouble  quickens  the  wits,"  she  declared ;  "  and  I  can 
say  to  you,  what  I  wouldn't  to  her,  that  Raymond  is  not 
taking  this  in  a  good  spirit,  or  as  I  hoped  and  expected. 
I  feel  for  him,  too,  while  being  absolutely  firm  with  him. 
Stupid  things  were  done  and  the  secret  of  his  folly  made 
public.  He  has  a  grudge  against  them  and,  of  course, 
that  is  rather  a  threatening  fact,  because  a  grudge  against 
anybody  is  a  deadly  thing  to  get  into  one's  mind.  It 
poisons  character  and  ruins  your  steady  outlook,  if  it  is 
deep  seated  enough." 

"  Would  you  say  that  he  bore  Sabina  a  grudge?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  so ;  but  I  do  my  best  to  dispel  it  by  point- 
ing out  what  she  thought  herself  faced  with.  And  I  tell 


190  THE  SPINNERS 

him  what  is  true,  that  Sabina  in  her  moments  of  greatest 
fear  and  exasperation,  always  behaved  like  a  lady.  But  in 
your  ear  only,  Ernest,  I  confess  to  a  new  sensation  —  a 
sickly  sensation  of  doubt.  It  comes  over  my  religious 
certainty  sometimes,  like  a  fog.  It's  cold  and  shivery. 
Of  course  from  every  standpoint  of  religion  and  honour 
and  justice,  they  ought  to  be  married.  But " 

He  stopped  her. 

"  Having  named  religion  and  honour  and  justice,  there 
is  no  room  for  '  but/  Indeed,  Jenny,  there  is  not." 

"  Let  me  speak,  all  the  same.  Other  people  can  have 
intuitions  besides  Mrs.  Dinnett.  It's  an  intuition  —  not 
second  sight  —  but  it  is  alive.  Supposing  this  marriage 
doesn't  really  make  for  the  happiness  of  either  of  them?  " 

"  If  they  put  religion  and  honour  and  justice  first,  it 
must,"  he  repeated.  "  You  cannot,  I  venture  to  say, 
have  happiness  without  religion  and  honour  and  justice; 
and  if  Raymond  were  to  go  back  on  his  word  now,  he 
would  be  the  most  miserable  man  in  the  country." 

"  I  wonder." 

"  Don't  wonder.  Be  sure  of  it.  Granted  he  finds  him- 
self miserable  —  that  is  because  he  has  committed  a  fault. 
Will  it  make  him  less  miserable  to  go  on  and  commit  a 
greater?  Sorrow  is  a  fair  price  to  pay  for  wisdom,  Jenny. 
He  is  a  great  deal  wiser  now  than  he  was  six  months  ago, 
and  to  shirk  his  responsibilities  and  break  his  word  will 
not  mend  matters.  Besides,  there  is  another  considera- 
tion, which  you  forget.  These  young  people  are  no 
longer  free.  Even  if  they  both  desired  to  remain  single, 
honour,  justice  and  religion  actually  demand  marriage. 
There  was  a  doubt  in  my  own  mind  once,  too,  whether 
their  happiness  would  be  assured  by  union.  Now  there 
is  no  doubt.  A  child  is  coming  into  the  world.  Need 
I  say  more  ?  " 

"  I  stand  corrected,"  she  answered.  "  There  is  really 
nothing  more  to  be  said.  For  the  child's  sake,  if  for 
no  other  reason,  marry  they  must.  We  know  too  well  the 


A  CONFERENCE  191 

fate  of  the  child  born  out  of  wedlock  in  this  country." 

"  It  is  a  shameful  and  cruel  fate ;  and  while  the  Church 
of  England  cowardly  suffers  the  State  to  impose  it,  and 
selfish  men  care  not,  we,  with  some  enthusiasm  for  the 
unborn  and  some  indignation  to  see  their  disabilities,  must 
do  what  lies  in  our  power  for  them." 

He  rambled  off  into  generalities  inspired  by  this  grave 
theme. 

"  *  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  Me,*  said 
Christ;  and  we  make  it  almost  impossible  for  fifty  thou- 
sand little  children  to  come  unto  Him  every  year;  and 
those  who  stand  for  Him,  the  ministers  of  His  Church, 
lift  not  a  finger.  The  little  children  of  nobody  they  are. 
They  grow  up  conscious  of  their  handicap ;  they  come  into 
the  world  to  trust  and  hope  and  find  themselves  pariahs. 
Is  that  conducive  to  a  religious  trust  in  God,  or  a  rational 
trust  in  man  for  these  outlawed  thousands  ?  " 

She  brought  him  back  again  to  Raymond  and  Sabina. 

"  Apart  from  the  necessity  and  justice,"  she  said,  "  and 
taking  it  for  granted  that  the  thing  must  happen,  what  is 
your  opinion  of  the  future?  You  know  Sabina  well  and 
ought  to  be  in  a  position  to  say  if  you  think  she  will  have 
the  wit  and  sense  to  make  it  a  happy  marriage." 

66 1  should  wish  to  think  so.  They  are  a  gracious  pair 
—  at  least  they  were.  I  liked  both  boy  and  girl  exceed- 
ingly and  I  happened  to  be  the  one  who  introduced  them 
to  each  other.  It  was  after  Henry's  death.  Sabina  came 
in  with  our  tea  and  one  could  almost  see  an  understanding 
spring  up  and  come  to  life  under  one's  eyes.  They've 
been  wicked,  Jenny ;  but  such  is  my  hopelessly  open  mind 
in  the  matter  of  goodness  and  wickedness,  that  I  often 
find  it  harder  to  forgive  some  people  for  doing  their  duty 
than  others  for  being  wicked.  In  fact,  some  do  their  duty 
in  a  way  that  is  perfectly  unforgivable,  while  others  fail 
in  such  an  affecting  and  attractive  manner  that  they  make 
you  all  the  fonder  of  them." 

"  I  feel  so,  too,  sometimes,"  she  admitted,  "  but  I  never 


192  THE  SPINNERS 

dared  to  confess  it.  Once  married,  I  think  Raymond 
would  steady  down  and  realise  his  responsibilities.  We 
must  both  do  what  we  can  to  bring  the  brothers  together 
again.  It  will  take  a  long  time  to  make  Daniel  forgive 
this  business." 

"  It  is  just  the  Daniel  type  who  would  take  it  most  seri- 
ously, even  if  we  are  able  soon  to  say  '  all's  well  that  ends 
well.'  For  that  reason,  one  regrets  he  heard  particulars. 
However,  we  must  trust  and  believe  the  future  will  set  all 
right  and  reinstate  Raymond  at  the  works.  For  my  own 
part  I  feel  very  sure  that  will  happen." 

"  Well,  I  always  like  to  see  hope  triumphing  over  ex- 
perience," she  said,  "  and  one  need  never  look  further 
than  you  for  that." 

"  Thank  yourself,"  he  answered.  "  Your  steadfast 
optimism  always  awakes  an  echo  in  me.  If  we  make  up 
our  minds  that  this  is  going  to  be  all  right,  that  will  at 
least  help  on  the  good  cause.  We  can't  do  much  to 
make  it  all  right,  but  we  can  do  something.  They  are  in 
Bridport  house-hunting  this  morning,  I  hear." 

"  They  are ;  and  that  reminds  me  they  come  to  lunch 
and,  I  hope,  to  report  progress.  Of  course  anything 
Raymond  likes,  Sabina  approves ;  but  he  isn't  easily  satis- 
fied. However,  they  may  have  found  something.  Daniel, 
rather  fortunately,  is  from  home  just  now,  in  the  North." 

"  If  we  could  get  him  to  the  wedding,  it  would  be  a 
great  thing." 

"  I'm  afraid  we  mustn't  hope  for  that ;  but  we  can  both 
urge  him  to  come.  He  may." 

"  I  will  compose  a  very  special  letter  to  him,"  said  Mr. 
Churchouse.  "  How's  your  rheumatism?  " 

"  Better,  if  anything." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    WARPING    MII/L 

IN  the  warping  shed  Mercy  Gale  plied  her  work.  It  was  a 
separate  building  adjoining  the  stores  at  Bridetown  Mill 
and,  like  them,  impregnated  with  the  distinctive,  fat  smell 
of  flax  and  hemp.  Under  dusty  rafters  and  on  a  floor  of 
stone  the  huge  warping  reels  stood.  They  were  light,  open 
frameworks  that  rose  from  floor  to  ceiling  and  turned  upon 
steel  rods.  Hither  came  the  full  bobbins  from  the  spin- 
ning machines  to  be  wound  off.  Two  dozen  of  the  bobbins 
hung  together  on  a  flat  frame  or  '  creel '  and  through  eyes 
and  slots  the  yarn  ran  through  a  *  hake,'  which  deftly 
crossed  the  strands  so  that  they  ran  smoothly  and  freely. 
The  hake  box  rose  and  fell  and  lapped  the  yarn  in  perfect 
spirals  round  the  warping  reels  as  they  revolved.  The 
length  of  a  reel  of  twine  varies  in  different  places  and  coun- 
tries ;  but  at  Bridetown,  a  Dorset  reel  was  always  meas- 
ured, and  it  represented  twenty-one  thousand,  six  hundred 
yards. 

Mercy  Gale  was  chaining  the  warp  off  the  reels  in  great 
massive  coils  which  would  presently  depart  to  be  polished 
and  finished  at  Bridport.  All  its  multiple  forms  sprang 
from  the  simple  yarn.  It  would  turn  into  shop  and  parcel 
twines ;  fishing  twines  for  deep  sea  lines  and  nets ;  and  by 
processes  of  reduplication,  swell  to  cords  and  shroud  laid 
ropes,  hawsers  and  mighty  cables. 

A  little  figure  filled  the  door  of  the  shed  and  Estelle 
Waldron  appeared.  She  shook  hands  and  greeted  the 
worker  with  friendship,  for  Estelle  was  now  free  of  the  Mill 
and  greatly  prided  herself  on  personally  knowing  every- 
body within  them. 

193 


194  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Good  morning,  Mercy,"  she  said.  "  I've  come  to  see 
Nancy  Buckler." 

"  Good  morning,  miss.  I  know.  She's  going  to  run  in 
at  dinner  time  to  sing  you  her  song." 

"  It's  a  wonderful  song,  I  believe,"  declared  Estelle, 
"  and  very,  very  old.  Her  grandfather  taught  it  to  her 
before  he  died,  and  I  want  to  write  it  down.  Do  you  like 
poetry,  Mercy?  " 

"  Can't  say  as  I  do,"  confessed  the  warper.  She  was  a 
fair,  tall  girl.  "  I  like  novels,"  she  added.  "  I  love 
stories,  but  I  haven't  got  much  use  for  rhymes." 

"  Stories  about  what  ?  "  asked  Estelle.  "  I  have  a  sort 
of  an  idea  to  start  a  library,  if  I  can  persuade  my  father 
to  let  me.  I  believe  I  could  get  some  books  from  friends 
to  make  a  beginning." 

"  Stories  about  adventure,"  declared  Mercy.  "  Most 
of  the  girls  like  love  stories  ;  but  I  don't  care  so  much  about 
them.  I  like  stories  where  big  things  happen  in  his- 
tory." 

"  So  do  I ;  and  then  you  know  you're  reading  about  what 
really  did  happen  and  about  great  people  who  really  lived. 
I  think  I  can  lend  you  some  stories  like  that." 

Mercy  thanked  her  and  Estelle  fell  silent  considering 
which  book  from  her  limited  collection  would  best  meet 
the  other's  demand.  Herself  she  did  not  read  many  novels, 
but  loved  her  books  about  plants  and  her  poets.  Poetry 
was  precious  food  to  her,  and  Mr.  Churchouse,  who  also 
appreciated  it,  had  led  her  to  his  special  favourites.  For 
the  present,  therefore,  Estelle  was  content  with  Longfellow 
and  Cowper  and  Wordsworth.  The  more  dazzling  light 
of  Keats  and  Shelley  and  Swinburne  had  yet  to  dawn  for 
her. 

Nancy  Buckler  arrived  presently  to  sing  her  song.  Her 
looks  did  not  belie  Nancy.  She  was  sharp  of  countenance, 
with  thin  cheeks  and  a  prominent  nose.  Her  voice,  too, 
had  a  pinch  of  asperity  about  it.  By  nature  she  was  criti- 
cal of  her  fellow  creatures.  No  man  had  desired  her,  and 


THE  WARPING  MILL  195 

the  fact  soured  her  a  little  and  led  to  a  general  contempt 
of  the  sex. 

She  smiled  for  Estelle,  however,  because  the  ingenuous 
child  had  won  her  friendship. 

"  Good  morning,  miss,"  she  said.  "  If  you've  got  a 
pencil  and  paper,  you  can  take  down  the  words." 

"  But  sing  them  first,"  begged  the  listener.  "  I  want  to 
hear  you  sing  them  to  the  old  tune,  because  I  expect  the 
tune  is  as  old  as  the  words,  Nancy." 

"  It's  a  funny  old  tune  for  certain.  I  can't  sing  it  like 
grandfather  did,  for  all  his  age.  He  croaked  it  like  a  ma- 
chine running,  and  that  seemed  the  proper  way.  But  I've 
not  got  much  of  a  voice." 

"  'Tis  loud  enough,  anyway,"  said  Mercy,  "  and  that's 
a  virtue." 

"  Yes,  you  can  hear  what  I'm  saying,"  admitted  Miss 
Buckler,  then  she  sang  her  song. 

"  When  a  twister,  a  twisting,  will  twist  him  a  twist, 
With  the  twisting  his  twist,  he  the  twine  doth  entwist; 
But  if  one  of  the  twines  of  the  twist  doth  untwist, 
The  twine  that  untwisteth,  untwisteth  the  twist, 
Untwisting  the  twine  that  entwineth  between, 
He  twists  with  his  twister  the  two  in  a  twine. 
Then,  twice  having  twisted  the  twines  of  his  twine, 
He  twisteth  the  twine  he  had  twined  in  twine. 
The  twain,  that  in  twining  before  in  the  twine, 
As  twines  were  entwisted,  he  now  doth  untwine, 
'Twixt  the  twain  intertwisting  a  twine  more  between." 

Nancy  gave  her  remarkable  performance  in  a  clear,  thin 
treble.  It  was  a  monotonous  melody,  but  suited  the  words 
very  well.  She  sang  slowly  and  her  face  and  voice  ex- 
hibited neither  light  nor  shade.  Yet  her  method  suited  the 
words  in  their  exceedingly  unemotional  appeal. 

"  It's  the  most  curious  song  I  ever  heard,"  cried  Estelle, 
"  and  you  sing  it  perfectly,  because  I  heard  every 
word." 

Then  she  brought  out  pencil  and  paper,  sat  in  the  deep 
alcove  of  the  window  and  transcribed  Nancy's  verse. 


196  THE  SPINNERS 

"  You  must  sing  that  to  my  father  next  time  you  come 
up,"  she  said.  "  It's  like  no  other  song  in  the  world,  I'm 
sure." 

Sally  Groves  came  in.  She  had  brought  Estelle  the  seed 
of  a  flower  from  her  garden. 

"  I  put  it  by  for  you,  Miss  Waldron,"  said  the  big 
woman,  "  because  you  said  you  liked  it  in  the  fall." 

They  talked  together  while  Mercy  Gale  doffed  her  over- 
all and  woollen  bonnet. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Estelle,  "  of  a  very  good  sort  of  wedding 
present  for  Mr.  Ironsyde,  when  he  marries  Sabina  next 
week." 

"  A  new  temper,  I  should  think,"  suggested  Nancy. 

"  He  can't  help  being  rather  in  a  temper,"  explained 
Estelle,  "  because  they  can't  find  a  house." 

"  Sabina  can  find  plenty,"  answered  the  spinner.  "  It's 
him  that's  so  hard  to  please." 

Sally  Groves  strove  to  curb  Nancy's  tongue. 

"  You  mind  your  own  business,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Iron- 
syde wants  everything  just  so,  and  why  not?  " 

"  Because  it  ain't  a  time  to  be  messing  about,  I  should 
think,"  retorted  Nancy.  "  And  it's  for  the  woman  to  be 
considered,  not  him." 

Then  Estelle,  in  all  innocence,  asked  a  shattering  ques- 
tion. 

"Is  it  true  Sabina  is  going  to  have  a  baby?  One  or 
two  girls  in  the  mill  told  me  she  was,  but  I  asked  my  father, 
and  he  seemed  to  be  annoyed  and  said,  of  course  not.  But 
I  hope  it's  true  —  it  would  be  lovely  for  Sabina  to  have  a 
baby  to  play  with." 

"So  it  would  then,"  declared  Sally  Groves,  "but  I 
shouldn't  tell  nothing  about  it  for  the  present,  miss." 

"  Least  said,  soonest  mended,"  said  Mercy  Gale. 

"  It's  like  this,"  explained  Sally  Groves  with  clumsy 
goodness :  "  they'll  want  to  keep  it  for  a  surprise,  miss,  and 
I  dare  say  they'd  be  terrible  disappointed  if  they  thought 
anybody  knew  anything  about  it  yet." 


THE  WARPING  MILL  197 

Nancy  Buckler  laughed. 

"  I  reckon  they  would,"  she  said. 

"  So  don't  you  name  it,  miss,"  continued  Sally.  "  Don't 
you  name  the  word  yet  awhile." 

Estelle  nodded. 

"  I  won't  then,"  she  promised.  "  I  know  how  sad  it  is, 
if  you've  got  a  great  secret,  to  find  other  people  know  it 
before  you  want  them  to." 

"  Beastly  sad,"  said  Nancy,  as  she  went  her  way,  and 
the  child  looked  after  her  puzzled. 

"  I  believe  Nancy's  jealous  of  Sabina,"  she  said. 

Then  it  was  Sally  Groves  who  laughed  and  her  merri- 
ment shook  the  billows  of  her  mighty  person. 

Estelle  found  herself  somewhat  depressed  as  she  went 
home.  Not  so  much  the  words  as  the  general  spirit  of 
these  comments  chilled  her.  After  luncheon  she  visited 
her  father's  study  and  talked  to  him  while  he  smoked. 

"  What  perfectly  beautiful  thing  can  I  get  for  Ray  and 
Sabina  for  a  wedding  present  ?  " 

He  cleaned  his  pipe  with  one  of  the  crow's  feathers 
Estelle  was  used  to  collect  for  him.  They  stood  in  vases 
on  the  mantel-shelf. 

"  It's  a  puzzler,"  confessed  Arthur  Waldron. 

"  D'you  think  Ray  has  grown  bad-tempered,  father?  " 

"Do  you?" 

"  No,  I'm  sure  I  don't.  He  is  a  little  different,  but 
that's  because  he's  going  to  be  married.  No  doubt  people 
do  get  a  little  different,  then.  But  Nancy  Buckler  at  the 
Mill  said  she  thought  the  best  wedding  present  for  him 
would  be  a  new  temper." 

"  That's  the  sort  of  insolent  things  people  say,  I  sup- 
pose, behind  his  back.  It's  all  very  unfortunate  in  my 
opinion,  Estelle." 

"  It's  frightfully  unfortunate  Ray  leaving  us,  because, 
after  he's  married,  he  must  have  a  house  of  his  own;  but 
it  isn't  unfortunate  his  marrying  Sabina,  I'm  sure." 

"  I'm  not  sure  at  all,"  confessed  her  father.     His  opin- 


198  THE  SPINNERS 

ion  always  carried  the  greatest  weight,  and  she  was  so 
much  concerned  at  this  announcement  that  Arthur  felt 
sorry  he  had  spoken. 

"You  see,  Estelle  —  how  can  I  explain?  I  think  Ray 
in  rather  too  young  to  marry." 

"  He's  well  over  twenty." 

"  Yes,  but  he's  young  for  his  age,  and  the  things  that  he 
is  keen  about  are  not  the  things  that  a  girl  is  keen  about. 
I  doubt  if  he  will  make  Sabina  happy." 

"  He  will  if  he  likes,  and  I'm  sure  he  will  like.  He  can 
always  make  me  happy,  so,  of  course,  he  can  make  Sabina. 
He's  really  tremendously  clever  and  knows  all  sorts  of 
things.  Oh,  don't  think  it's  going  to  be  sad,  father.  I'm 
sure  they're  both  much  too  wise  to  do  anything  that's 
going  to  be  sad.  Because  if  Ray " 

She  stopped,  for  Raymond  himself  came  in.  He  had 
left  early  that  morning  to  seek  a  house  with  Sabina. 

"  What  luck?  "  said  Waldron. 

"  We've  found  something  that'll  do,  I  think.  Two  miles 
out  towards  Chideock.  A  garden  and  a  decent  paddock 
and  a  stable.  But  he'll  have  to  spend  some  money  on  the 
stable.  There's  a  doubt  if  he  will  —  the  landlord,  I  mean. 
Sabina  likes  the  house,  so  I  hope  it  will  be  all  right." 

Waldron  nodded. 

"  If  it's  Thornton,  the  horse-dealer,  he'll  do  what  you 
want.  He's  got  houses  up  there." 

"  It  isn't.     I  haven't  seen  the  man  yet." 

"  Well,"  said  his  friend,  "  I  don't  know  what  the  deuce 
Estelle  and  I  are  going  to  do  without  you.  We  shall  miss 
you  abominably." 

"What  shall  I  do  without  you?  That's  more  to  the 
point.  You've  got  each  other  for  pals  —  I " 

He  broke  off  and  Arthur  filled  the  pregnant  pause. 

"  Look  here  —  Estelle  wants  to  give  you  a  wedding 
present,  old  man ;  and  so  do  I.  And  as  we  haven't  the 
remotest  idea  what  would  be  the  likeliest  thing,  don't  stand 
on  ceremony,  but  tell  us." 


THE  WARPING  MILL  199 

"  I  don't  want  anything  —  except  to  know  I  shall  al- 
ways be  welcome  when  I  drop  in." 

"  We  needn't  tell  you  that." 

"  But  you  must  want  thousands  of  things,"  declared 
Estelle,  "  everybody  does  when  they're  married.  And  if 
you  don't,  I'm  sure  Sabina  does  —  knives  and  forks  and 
silver  tea  kettles  and  pictures  for  the  walls." 

"  Married  people  don't  want  pictures,  Estelle ;  they 
never  look  at  anything  but  one  another." 

She  laughed. 

"  But  the  poor  walls  want  pictures  if  you  don't.  I 
believe  the  walls  wouldn't  feel  comfortable  without  pic- 
tures. Besides  you  and  Sabina  can't  sit  and  look  at  each 
other  all  day." 

"  What  about  a  nice  little  handy  '  jingle  '  for  her  to 
trundle  about  in?  "  asked  Waldron. 

"  As  I  can't  pull  it,  old  chap,  it  wouldn't  be  much  good. 
I'm  keeping  the  hunter;  but  I  shan't  be  able  to  keep 
anything  else  —  if  that." 

"  How  would  it  be  if  you  sold  the  hunter  and  got  a 
nice  everyday  sort  of  horse  that  you  could  ride,  or  that 
Sabina  could  drive?  "  asked  Estelle. 

"No,"  said  Waldron  firmly.  "He  doesn't  sell  his 
hunter  or  his  guns.  These  things  stand  for  a  link  with 
the  outer  world  and  represent  sport,  which  is  quite  as  im- 
portant as  marriage  in  the  general  scheme." 

"  I  thought  to  chuck  all  that  and  take  up  golf,"  said 
Raymond.  "  There's  a  lot  in  golf  they  tell  me." 

But  Waldron  shook  his  head. 

"  Golf's  all  right,"  he  admitted,  "  and  a  great  game. 
I'm  going  to  take  it  up  myself,  and  I'm  glad  it's  coming  in, 
because  it  will  add  to  the  usefulness  of  a  lot  of  us  men  who 
have  to  fall  out  of  cricket.  There's  a  great  future  for 
golf,  I  believe.  But  no  golf  for  you  yet.  You  won't  run 
any  more  and  you'll  drop  out  of  football,  as  only  *  pros.' 
play  much  after  marriage.  But  you  must  shoot  as  much 
as  possible,  and  hunt  a  bit,  and  play  cricket  still." 


200  THE  SPINNERS 

This  comforting  programme  soothed  Raymond. 

"  That's  all  right,  but  I've  got  to  find  work.  I  was  just 
beginning  to  feel  keen  on  work ;  but  now  —  flit,  Estelle,  my 
duck.  I  want  to  have  a  yarn  with  father." 

The  girl  departed. 

"  Do  let  it  be  a  *  jingle,'  Ray,"  she  begged,  and  then  was 
gone. 

"  It's  my  damned  brother,"  went  on  Raymond. 

"  He'll  come  round  and  ask  you  to  go  back,  as  soon  as 
you're  fixed  up  and  everything's  all  right." 

"  Everything  won't  be  all  right.  Everything's  con- 
foundedly wrong.  Think  what  it  is  for  a  proud  man  to  be 
at  the  mercy  of  an  aunt,  and  to  look  to  her  for  his  keep. 
If  anything  could  make  me  sick  of  the  whole  show,  it's 
that." 

"  I  shouldn't  feel  it  so.  She's  keen  on  you,  and  keen 
on  Sabina ;  and  she  knows  you  can't  live  upon  air.  You 
may  be  sure  also  she  knows  that  it  won't  last.  Daniel  will 
come  round." 

"And  if  he  does?  It's  all  the  same  —  taking  his 
money." 

"  You  won't  be  taking  it ;  you'll  be  earning  it." 

" 1  hate  him,  like  hell,  and  I  hate  the  thought  of  work- 
ing under  him  all  my  life." 

"  You  won't  be  under  him.  You've  often  said  the  time 
was  coming  when  you'd  wipe  Daniel's  eye  and  show  you 
were  the  moving  spirit  of  the  Mill.  Well  now,  when  you 
go  back,  you  must  work  double  tides  to  do  it." 

"  He  may  not  take  me  back,  and  for  many  things  I'd 
sooner  he  didn't.  We  should  never  be  the  same  to  one 
another  after  that  row.  For  two  pins,  even  now,  I'd  make 
a  bolt,  Arthur,  and  disappear  altogether  and  go  abroad 
and  carve  out  my  own  way." 

"  Don't  talk  rot.     You  can't  do  that." 

But  Waldron,  in  spite  of  his  advice  and  sanguine  proph- 
ecies, hid  a  grave  doubt  at  heart  whether,  so  far  as  Ray- 
mond's own  future  was  concerned,  such  a  course  might  not 


THE  WARPING  MILL  201 

be  the  wisest.  He  felt  confident,  however,  that  the  younger 
man  would  keep  his  engagements.  Raymond  had  plenty 
of  pluck  and  did  not  lack  for  a  heart,  so  far  as  Waldron 
knew.  Had  Sabina  been  no  more  than  engaged,  he  must 
strongly  have  urged  Raymond  to  drop  her  and  endure  the 
harsh  criticism  that  would  have  followed:  for  an  engage- 
ment broken  appeared  a  lesser  evil  than  an  unhappy  mat- 
ing; but  since  the  position  was  complicated,  he  could  not 
feel  so  and  stoutly  upheld  the  marriage  on  principle,  while 
extremely  doubtful  of  its  practical  outcome. 

They  talked  for  two  hours  to  no  purpose  and  then 
Estelle  called  them  to  tea. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    TELEGRAM 

RAYMOND  and  Sabina  spent  a  long  afternoon  at  the  house 
they  had  taken;  and  while  he  was  interested  with  the 
stables  and  garden,  she  occupied  herself  indoors.  She  was 
very  tired  before  they  had  finished,  and  presently,  return- 
ing to  Bridport,  they  called  at  *  The  Seven  Stars  '  and 
ordered  tea. 

The  famous  garden  was  dismantled  now  and  Job  Legg 
spent  some  daily  hoifrs  in  digging  there.  To-morrow  Job 
was  to  hear  what  Mrs.  Northover  had  to  say  concerning 
his  proposal,  and,  meantime,  the  pending  decision  neither 
unsettled  him  nor  interfered  with  his  usual  placidity  and 
enterprise. 

Nelly  Northover  herself  waited  upon  the  engaged  couple. 
She  was  somewhat  abstracted  with  her  own  thoughts,  but 
so  far  banished  them  that  she  could  show  and  feel  interest 
in  the  visitors.  Raymond  described  the  house,  and  Sabina, 
glad  to  see  Raymond  in  a  cheerful  mood,  expatiated  on 
the  charms  of  her  future  home. 

They  delayed  somewhat  longer  than  Mrs.  Northover  ex- 
pected and  she  left  them  presently,  for  she  had  an  ap- 
pointment bearing  on  the  supreme  subject  of  her  offer  of 
marriage.  Mrs.  Northover  was,  in  fact,  going  to  take 
another  opinion.  Such  indecision  seemed  foreign  to  her 
character,  which  seldom  found  her  in  two  minds ;  but  it 
happened  that  upon  one  judgment  she  had  often  relied 
since  her  husband's  death  and,  before  the  great  problem 
at  present  challenging  Nelly,  she  believed  another  view 

might  largely  assist  her.     That  she  could  not  decide  her- 

202 


THE  TELEGRAM  203 

self,  she  felt  to  be  very  significant.  The  fact  made  her 
cautious  and  anxious. 

She  put  on  her  bonnet  now,  left  a  maid  to  settle  with  the 
customers  and  presently  stepped  across  the  road  to  '  The 
Tiger,'  for  it  was  Richard  Gurd  in  whom  Mrs.  Northover 
put  her  trust.  She  designed  to  place  Job's  offer  before  her 
friend  and  invite  a  candid  and  unprejudiced  criticism. 
For  so  doing  more  reasons  than  one  may  have  existed ;  we 
seldom  seek  the  judgment  of  a  friend  without  mixed  mo- 
tives ;  but,  at  any  rate,  Nelly  believed  very  thoroughly  in 
her  neighbour,  and  if,  in  reality,  it  was  as  much  a  wish 
that  he  should  know  what  had  happened,  as  a  desire  to 
learn  his  opinion  upon  it,  she  none  the  less  felt  that  opinion 
would  be  precious  and  probably  decide  her. 

Richard  was  waiting  in  his  office  —  a  small  apartment 
off  the  bar,  to  which  none  had  access  save  himself. 

"  Come  in  here  and  we  shan't  be  disturbed,"  he  said. 
"  Of  course,  when  you  tell  me  you  want  my  advice  on  a 
matter  of  the  greatest  importance,  all  else  has  to  stand  by. 
My  old  friend's  wife  has  a  right  to  come  to  me,  I  should 
hope,  and  I'm  glad  you've  done  so.  Sit  here  by  the  fire." 

It  did  not  take  Mrs.  Northover  long  to  relate  the  situa- 
tion, nor  was  Mr.  Gurd  much  puzzled  to  declare  his  view. 
In  brief  words  she  told  him  of  Job  Legg's  greatly  increased 
prosperity  and  his  proposal  to  wed.  Having  made  her 
statement,  she  advanced  a  few  words  for  Job. 

"In  fairness  and  beyond  all  this,  I  must  tell  you, 
Richard,  that  he's  a  very  uncommon  sort  of  man.  That 
you  know,  of  course,  as  well  as  I  do.  But  what  you  don't 
know  is  that  when  he  was  away,  I  badly  missed  him  and 
found  out,  for  the  first  time,  what  an  all-round,  valuable 
creature  he  has  become  at  *  The  Seven  Stars.'  When  he 
was  along  with  his  dying  relation,  I  missed  the  man  a 
thousand  times  in  every  twelve  hours  and  I  felt  properly 
astonished  to  find  how  he  was  the  prop  and  stay  of  my 
business.  That  may  seem  too  much  to  say,  seeing  I'm  a 
fairly  clever  woman  and  know  how  to  run  '  The  Seven 


204  THE  SPINNERS 

Stars  '  in  a  pretty  prosperous  way ;  but  there  is  no  doubt 
Legg  is  very  much  more  than  what  he  seems.  He's  a  very 
human  man  and  I'll  go  so  far  as  to  say  this :  I  like  him. 
There's  great  self-respect  to  him  and  you  feel,  under  his 
level  temper  and  unfailing  readiness  to  work  at  anything 
and  everything,  that  he's  a  power  for  good  —  in  fact  a 
man  with  high  principles  —  so  high  as  my  own,  if  not 
higher." 

"  Stop  there,  or  you'll  over-do  it,"  said  Richard. 
"  Higher  than  yours  his  principles  won't  take  him  and  I 
refuse  to  hear  you  say  so.  You  ask  me  in  plain  words  if 
you  shall  marry  Job  Legg,  or  if  you  shan't.  And  before 
I  speak,  I  may  tell  you  that,  as  a  man  of  the  world,  I 
shan't  quarrel  with  you  if  you  don't  take  my  advice.  As 
a  rule  I  have  found  that  good  advice  is  more  often  given 
than  taken  and,  whether  or  no,  the  giving  of  advice  nearly 
always  means  one  thing.  And  that  is  that  the  giver  loses 
a  friend.  If  the  advice  is  bad,  it  is  generally  taken,  and 
him  that  takes  it  finds  out  in  due  course  it  was  bad,  and  so 
the  giver  makes  an  enemy.  And  if  'tis  good,  the  same 
thing  happens,  for  then  'tis  not  taken  and,  looking  back, 
the  sufferer  sees  his  mistake,  and  human  nature  works,  and 
instead  of  kicking  himself,  he  feels  like  kicking  the  wise  man 
that  gave  him  the  good  advice.  But  between  me  and  you 
that  won't  happen,  for  there's  the  ghost  of  William  North- 
over  to  come  between.  You  and  me  are  high  spirited,  and 
I  dare  say  there  are  some  people  who  would  say  we  are 
short  tempered ;  but  we  know  better." 

"  That's  all  true  as  gospel ;  and  now  you  tell  me  if  I 
ought  to  marry  Job.  Or,  if  'tis  too  great  a  question  to 
decide  in  a  minute,  as  I  find  it  myself,  then  leave  it  till 
to-morrow  and  I'll  pop  in  again." 

"  No  need  to  leave  it.  My  mind  is  used  to  make  itself 
up  swift.  First,  as  to  Legg.  Legg's  a  very  good  man, 
indeed,  and  I'd  be  the  first  to  praise  him.  He's  all  you  say 
—  or  nearly  all  —  and  I've  often  been  very  much  impressed 


THE  TELEGRAM  205 

by  him.  And  if  he  was  anybody's  servant  but  yours,  I 
dare  say  I'd  have  tempted  him  to  4  The  Tiger  '  before  now. 
But  there  are  some  that  shine  in  the  lead,  like  you  and  me, 
and  some  that  only  show  their  full  worth  when  they've  got 
to  obey.  Job  can  obey  to  perfection ;  but  I'm  not  so  sure 
if  he's  fitted  to  command." 

"  Remember,"  she  said,  "  that  if  I  say  '  no  '  to  the  man, 
I  lose  him.  He  can't  be  my  right  hand  no  more  then, 
because  he'd  leave.  And  my  heart  sinks  at  the  thought  of 
another  potman  at  my  age." 

"  When  you  say  *  potman  '  you  come  to  the  root  of  the 
matter,  and  your  age  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  answered 
Richard.  "  The  natural  instinct  at  such  times  is  to  advise 
against,  and  when  man  or  woman  asks  a  fellow  creature  as 
to  the  wisdom  of  marrying,  they'll  always  pull  a  long  face 
and  find  fifty  good  reasons  why  not.  But  I'm  taking  this 
in  a  larger  spirit.  There's  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't 
marry  again,  and  you'd  make  another  as  happy  as  you  did 
your  first,  no  doubt.  But  Job  Legg  is  a  potman;  he's 
been  a  potman  for  a  generation ;  he  thinks  like  a  potman, 
and  his  outlook  in  life  is  naturally  the  potman  outlook. 
Mind,  I'm  not  saying  anything  against  him  as  a  man  when 
I  tell  you  so;  I'm  only  looking  at  him  now  as  a  husband 
for  you.  He's  got  religion  and  a  good  temper,  and  dollops 
of  sense,  and  I'll  even  go  so  far  as  to  say,  seeing  that  he  is 
now  a  man  of  money,  that  he  was  within  his  right  to  offer, 
if  he  did  it  in  a  modest  manner.  But  I  won't  say  more 
than  that.  He's  simple  and  faithful  and  a  servant  worthy 
of  all  respect,  but  that  man  haven't  the  parts  to  rise  to 
mastership.  A  good  stick,  but  if  he  was  your  crutch,  he'd 
fail  you.  For  my  part,  I'm  very  sure  that  people  of  much 
greater  importance  than  him  would  offer  for  you  if  they 
knew  you  were  for  a  husband." 

"  I  wouldn't  say  I  was  for  a  husband,  Richard.  The 
idea  never  came  into  my  mind  till  Job  Legg  put  it  there." 

"  Just  your  modesty.     There's  no  more  reason  why  you 


206  THE  SPINNERS 

shouldn't  wed  than  why  I  shouldn't.  You're  a  comely  and 
highly  marriageable  person  still,  and  nobody  knows  it  bet- 
ter than  what  I  do." 

"  You  advise  against,  then?  " 

"  In  that  quarter,  yes.  I'm  thinking  of  you,  and  only 
you,  and  I  don't  believe  Job  is  quite  man  enough  for  the 
part.  Leave  it,  however,  for  twenty-four  hours." 

"  He  was  to  have  his  answer,  to-morrow." 

"  He's  used  to  waiting.  Tell  him  you're  coming  to  it 
and  won't  keep  him  much  longer.  It's  too  big  a  thing  to  be 
quite  sure  about,  and  you  were  right  when  you  said  so. 
I'll  come  across  and  see  you  in  the  morning." 

"  I'm  obliged  to  you,  Richard.  And  if  you'll  turn  it 
over,  I'll  thank  you.  I  wouldn't  have  come  to  any  other 
than  you,  bachelor  though  you  are." 

"  I'll  weigh  it,"  he  promised,  "  but  I  warn  you  I'm  very 
unlikely  to  see  it  different.  What  you've  told  me  have 
put  other  side  issues  into  my  head.  You'll  hunt  a  rabbit 
and  flush  a  game  bird,  sometimes.  In  fact,  great  things 
often  come  out  of  little  ones." 

"  I  know  you'll  be  fair  and  not  let  anything  influence 
your  judgment,"  she  said. 

He  promised,  but  with  secret  uneasiness,  for  already  it 
seemed  that  his  judgment  was  being  influenced.  For  that 
reason  he  had  postponed  a  final  decision  until  the  following 
day.  Mrs.  Northover  departed  with  grateful  thanks  and 
left  behind  her,  though  she  guessed  it  not,  problems  far 
more  tremendous  than  any  she  had  brought. 

Meantime  Raymond  and  Sabina,  on  their  way  to  Miss 
Ironsyde,  were  met  by  Mr.  Neddy  Motyer.  Neddy  had 
not  seen  his  friend  for  some  time  and  now  saluted  and 
stopped.  It  was  nearly  dark  and  they  stood  under  a 
lamp-post. 

"  Cheero !  "  said  Mr.  Motyer.  "  Haven't  cast  an  eye 
on  you  for  a  month  of  Sundays,  Ironsyde." 

Raymond  introduced  Sabina  and  Neddy  was  gallant  and 
reminded  her  they  had  met  before  at  the  Mill.  Then, 


THE  TELEGRAM  207 

desiring  a  little  masculine  society,  Sabina's  betrothed  pro- 
posed that  she  should  go  on  and  report  that  he  was  com- 
ing. 

"  Aunt  Jenny  will  expect  us  to  stop  for  dinner,  so  there's 
no  hurry.  I'll  be  up  in  half  an  hour." 

She  left  them  and  Neddy  suggested  drinking. 

"  You  might  as  well  be  dead  and  buried  for  all  the  boys 
see  of  you  nowadays,"  he  said,  as  they  entered  '  The  Bull ' 
Hotel. 

"  I'm  busy." 

"  I  know,  but  I  hope  you'll  have  a  big  night  off  before 
the  deed  is  done  and  you  take  leave  of  freedom  —  what?  " 

"  I'm  not  taking  leave  of  freedom.  You  godless  bache- 
lors don't  know  you're  born." 

"Bluff  — bluff!"  declared  Neddy.  "You  can't  de- 
ceive me,  old  sport." 

"  You  wait  till  you  find  the  right  one." 

"  I  shall,"  promised  Neddy.  "  And  very  well  content  to 
wait.  Nothing  is  easier  than  not  to  be  married." 

"  Nothing  is  harder,  my  dear  chap,  if  you're  in  love  with 
the  right  girl." 

Neddy  felt  the  ground  delicate.  He  knew  that  Ray- 
mond had  knocked  down  a  man  for  insulting  him  a  week 
before,  so  he  changed  the  subject. 

"  I  thought  you'd  be  at  the  fight,"  he  said.  "  It  was  a 
pretty  spar  —  interesting  all  through.  Jack  Buckler 
won.  Blades  practically  let  him.  Not  because  he  wanted 
to,  but  because  Solly  Blades  has  got  a  streak  of  softness 
in  his  make-up.  That's  fatal  in  a  fighter.  If  you've  got 
a  gentle  heart,  it  don't  matter  how  clever  you  are:  you 
can't  take  full  advantage  of  your  skill  and  use  the  opening 
when  you've  won  it.  Blades  didn't  punish  Buckler's 
stupidity,  or  weakness  just  when  he  could  have  done  it. 
So  he  lost,  because  he  gave  Jack  time  to  get  strong  again ; 
and  when  Blades  in  his  turn  went  weak,  Buckler  got  it 
over  and  outed  him." 

"  Your  heart  often  robs  you  of  what  your  head  won," 


208  THE  SPINNERS 

said  another  man  in  the  bar.  "  Life's  like  prize-fighting 
in  that  respect.  If  you  don't  hit  other  people  when  you 
can,  the  time  will  probably  come  when  they'll  hit  you." 

It  was  an  ugly  philosophy  and  Raymond,  looking  within, 
applied  to  it  himself.  Then  he  put  his  own  thoughts 
away. 

"  And  how  are  the  gee-gees  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  As  a  *  gentleman  backer,'  I  can't  say  I'm  going  very 
strong,"  confessed  Neddy.  "  On  the  whole,  I  think  it's  a 
mug's  game.  Anyway,  I  shall  chuck  it  when  flat  racing 
comes  again.  My  father's  getting  restive.  I  shall  have 
to  do  something  pretty  soon." 

Raymond  stayed  for  an  hour  and  was  again  urged  to 
give  a  bachelor-supper  before  he  married ;  but  he  declined. 

"  Shan't  chuck  away  a  tenner  on  a  lot  of  wasters,"  he 
said.  "  Got  something  better  to  do  with  it." 

Several  men  promised  to  come  to  church  and  see  the 
event,  now  near  at  hand,  but  he  told  them  that  they  might 
be  disappointed. 

"  I'm  not  too  sure  about  that,"  he  said.  "  I  may  put 
my  foot  down  on  that  racket  and  be  married  at  a  regis- 
trar's. Anyway  church  is  no  certainty.  I've  got  no  use 
for  making  a  show  of  my  private  affairs." 

On  the  way  to  Miss  Ironsyde's  he  grew  moody  and  gloom 
settled  upon  him.  A  glimpse  of  the  old  free  and  easy  life 
threw  into  darker  colours  the  new  existence  ahead.  He 
remembered  the  sentiments  of  the  strange  man  in  the  bar 
—  how  weakness  is  always  punished  and  the  heart  often 
robs  the  head  of  victory.  His  heart  was  robbing  his  head 
of  freedom;  and  that  meant  victory  also;  for  what  sort 
of  success  can  life  offer  to  those  who  begin  it  by  flinging 
liberty  to  the  winds?  Yes,  he  had  been  "bluffing,"  as 
Neddy  declared ;  and  to  bluff  was  foreign  to  his  nature. 
Nobody  was  deceived,  for  everybody  knew  the  truth,  and 
though  none  dared  laugh  at  him  in  public,  secretly  all  his 
acquaintance  were  doubtless  doing  so. 

Sabina  saw  that  he  was  perturbed  when  presently  he 


THE  TELEGRAM  209 

joined  Miss  Ironsyde.  He  had  drunk  more  than  enough 
and  proved  irritable. 

He  was,  however,  silent  at  first,  while  his  aunt  discussed 
the  wedding.  She  took  it  for  granted  that  it  would  be  in 
church  and  reminded  Raymond  of  necessary  steps. 

"  And  certain  people  should  be  asked,"  she  said. 
"  Have  you  any  friends  you  particularly  wish  to  be  there? 
Mr.  Churchouse  is  planning  a  wedding  breakfast " 

"  No  —  none  of  my  friends  will  be  there  if  I  can  help  it. 
They're  not  that  sort." 

"  Have  you  written  to  Daniel  ?  " 

"  '  Written  to  Daniel ' !  Good  God,  no  !  What  should 
I  write  to  Daniel,  but  to  tell  him  he's  the  biggest  cur  and 
hound  on  earth?  " 

"  You've  passed  all  that.  You're  not  going  back  again, 
Raymond.  You  know  what  you  said  last  time  when  we 
talked  about  it." 

"  If  he's  evef  to  be  more  than  a  name  to  me,  he  must 
apologise  for  being  a  low  down  brute,  first.  Pve  got 
plenty  on  my  mind  without  thinking  about  him.  He's 
going  to  rue  the  day  he  treated  me  as  he  has  done.  I'll 
bring  him  and  Bridetown  Mill  to  the  gutter,  yet." 

"  Don't,  don't,  please.  I  thought  you  felt  last  time  we 
were  talking  about  him " 

"  Drop  him  —  don't  mention  his  name  to  me  —  I  won't 
hear  it.  If  you  want  me  to  go  on  with  my  life  with  self- 
respect,  then  keep  his  name  out  of  my  life.  I've  cursed 
him  to  hell  once  and  for  all,  so  talk  of  something  else !  " 

Jenny  Ironsyde  saw  that  her  nephew  was  in  a  dark 
temper,  and  while  at  heart  she  felt  indignant  and  ashamed, 
more  for  Sabina's  sake  than  his  own,  she  humoured  him, 
spoke  of  the  future  and  strove  to  win  him  back  into  a 
cheerful  mind. 

Then  as  they  were  going  to  dinner,  at  half-past  seven 
o'clock,  the  maid  who  announced  the  meal,  brought  with  her 
a  telegram.  It  was  directed  to  '  Ironsyde '  only,  and, 
putting  on  her  glasses,  Jenny  read  it, 


210  THE  SPINNERS 

Daniel  had  been  very  seriously  injured  in  a  railway  ac- 
cident at  York. 

Remorse  strikes  the  young  with  cruel  bitterness.  Ray- 
mond turned  pale  and  staggered.  While  he  had  been 
cursing  his  brother,  the  man  lay  smitten,  perhaps  at  the 
door  of  death.  His  aunt  it  was  who  steadied  him  and 
turned  to  the  time-table.  Then  she  went  to  her  store  of 
ready  money.  In  an  hour  Raymond  was  on  his  way.  It 
might  be  possible  for  him  to  catch  a  midnight  train  for  the 
North  from  London  and  reach  York  before  morning. 

When  he  had  gone,  Jenny  turned  to  Sabina,  who  had 
spoken  no  word  during  this  scene. 

"  Much  may  come  of  this,"  she  said.  "  God  works 
in  mysterious  ways.  I  have  no  fear  that  Raymond  will 
fail  in  his  duty  to  dear  Daniel  at  such  a  time.  Come  back 
early  to-morrow,  Sabina.  I  shall  get  a  telegram,  as  soon 
as  Raymond  can  despatch  it,  and  shall  hold  myself  in 
readiness  to  go  at  once  and  stop  with  Daniel.  Tell 
Mister  Churchouse  what  has  happened." 

The  lady  spent  the  night  in  packing.  Her  sufferings 
and  anxieties  were  allayed  by  occupation ;  but  the  long 
hours  seemed  unending. 

She  was  ready  to  start  at  dawn,  but  not  until  ten  o'clock 
came  the  news  from  York.  Mr.  Churchouse  was  already 
with  her  when  the  telegram  arrived.  He  had  driven  from 
Bridetown  with  Sabina.  Daniel  Ironsyde  was  dead  and 
had  passed  many  hours  before  Raymond  reached  him. 

Sabina  went  home  on  hearing  this  news,  and  Ernest 
Churchouse  remained  with  Miss  Ironsyde. 

She  was  prostrated  and,  for  a  time,  he  could  not  com- 
fort her.  But  the  practical  nature  of  her  mind  asserted 
itself  between  gusts  of  grief.  She  despatched  a  telegram 
to  Raymond  at  York,  and  begged  him  to  bring  back  his 
brother's  body  as  soon  as  it  might  be  done.  Concerning 
the  future  she  also  spoke  to  Ernest. 

"  He  has  made  no  will,"  she  said.     "  That  I  know,  be- 


THE  TELEGRAM  an 

cause  when  last  we  were  speaking  of  Raymond,  he  told  me 
he  felt  it  impossible  at  present  to  do  so." 

"  Then  the  whole  estate  belongs  to  Raymond,  now?  " 
he  asked.  , 

"  Yes,  everything  is  his." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A    LETTER    FOR    SABINA 

A  HUMAN  machine,  under  stress  of  personal  tribulation 
and  lowered  vitality,  had  erred  in  a  signal  box  five  miles 
from  York,  with  the  result  that  several  of  his  fellow  crea- 
tures were  killed  and  many  injured.  Daniel  Ironsyde  had 
only  lived  long  enough  to  direct  the  telegram  to  his  home. 

Three  days  later  Raymond  returned  with  the  body,  and 
once  more  Bridetown  crowded  to  its  windows  and  open 
spaces,  to  see  the  funeral  of  another  master  of  the  Mill. 

To  an  onlooker  the  scene  might  have  appeared  a  repeti- 
tion in  almost  every  particular  of  Henry  Ironsyde's  ob- 
sequies. 

The  spinners  crowded  on  the  grassy  triangle  under  the 
sycamore  tree  and  debated  their  future.  They  wondered 
whether  Raymond  would  come  to  the  funeral;  and  a  new 
note  entered  into  all  voices  when  they  spoke  his  name,  for 
he  was  master  now.  Mr.  Churchouse  attended  the  burial, 
and  Arthur  Waldron  walked  down  from  North  Hill  House 
with  his  daughter.  In  the  churchyard,  where  Daniel's 
grave  waited  for  him  beside  his  father,  old  Mr.  Baggs 
stood  and  looked  down,  as  he  had  done  when  Henry  Iron- 
syde came  to  his  grave. 

"  Life,  how  short  —  eternity,  how  long,"  he  said  to 
John  Best. 

Ernest  Churchouse  opened  the  door  of  the  mourning 
coach  as  he  had  done  on  the  previous  occasion,  and  Miss 
Ironsyde  alighted,  followed  by  Raymond.  He  had  come. 
But  he  had  changed  even  to  the  visible  eye.  The  least 
observing  were  able  to  mark  differences  of  voice  and 

manner. 

212 


A  LETTER  FOR  SABINA          213 

Raymond's  nature  had  responded  to  the  stroke  of  cir- 
cumstance with  lightning  swiftness.  The  pressure  of  his 
position,  thus  suddenly  relieved,  caused  a  rebound,  a  libera- 
tion of  the  grinding  tension.  It  remained  to  be  seen  what 
course  he  might  now  pursue ;  yet  those  who  knew  him  best 
anticipated  no  particular  reaction.  But  when  he  returned 
it  was  quickly  apparent  that  tremendous  changes  had  al- 
ready taken  place  in  the  young  man's  outlook  on  life  and 
that,  whatever  his  future  line  of  conduct  might  be,  he 
realised  very  keenly  his  altered  position.  He  was  now 
free  of  all  temporal  cares ;  but  against  that  fact  he  found 
himself  faced  with  great  new  responsibilities. 

Remorse  hit  him  hard,  but  he  was  through  the  worst  of 
that,  and  life  had  become  so  tremendous,  that  he  could  not 
for  very  long  keep  his  thoughts  on  death. 

At  his  brother's  funeral  he  allowed  his  eye  to  rest  on  no 
familiar  face  and  cast  no  recognising  glance  at  man  or 
woman.  He  was  haggard  and  pale,  but  more  than  that: 
a  new  expression  had  come  into  his  countenance.  Al- 
ready consciousness  of  possession  marked  him.  He  had 
grasped  the  fact  of  the  change  far  quicker  than  Daniel 
had  grasped  it  after  their  father's  death. 

He  was  returning  immediately  with  his  aunt  to  Brid- 
port ;  but  Mr.  Churchouse  broke  through  the  barrier  and 
spoke  to  him  as  he  entered  the  carriage. 

"  Won't  you  see  Sabina  before  you  go,  Raymond  ? 
You  must  realise  that,  even  under  these  terrible  conditions, 
we  cannot  delay.  I  understand  she  wrote  to  you  when  you 
came  back ;  but  that  you  have  not  answered  her  letter.  As 
things  are  it  seems  to  me  you  might  like  to  be  quietly  and 
privately  married  away  from  Bridetown?  " 

Raymond  hardly  seemed  to  hear. 

"  I  can't  talk  about  that  now.  A  great  deal  falls  upon 
me  at  present.  I  am  enormously  busy  and  have  to  take 
up  the  threads  of  all  poor  Daniel  was  doing  in  the  North. 
There  is  nobody  but  myself,  in  my  opinion,  who  can  go 
through  with  it.  I  return  to  London  to-night." 


814  THE  SPINNERS 

"But  Sabina?" 

Raymond  answered  calmly. 

"  Sabina  Dinnett  will  hear  from  me  during  the  next 
twenty-four  hours,"  he  said. 

Ernest  gazed  aghast. 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,  you  cannot  realise  the  situation  if 
you  talk  like  that.  Surely  you " 

"  I  realise  the  situation  perfectly  well.  Good-bye, 
Uncle  Ernest." 

The  coach  drove  away.  Miss  Ironsyde  said  nothing. 
She  had  broken  down  beside  the  grave  and  was  still 
weeping. 

Then  came  Mr.  Best,  where  Mr.  Churchouse  stood  at  the 
lich-gate.  He  was  anxious  for  information. 

"  Did  he  say  anything  about  his  plans?  "  he  asked. 

66  Only  that  he  is  proceeding  with  his  late  brother's  busi- 
ness in  the  North.  I  perceive  a  most  definite  change  in 
the  young  man,  John." 

"  For  the  better,  we'll  hope.  What's  hid  in  people ! 
You  never  would  have  thought  Mister  Raymond  would 
have  carried  himself  like  that.  It  wasn't  grief  at  his  loss, 
but  a  sort  of  an  understanding  of  the  change.  He  even 
looked  at  us  differently  —  even  me." 

"  He's  overwrought  and  not  himself,  probably.  I  don't 
think  he  quite  grasps  the  immediate  situation.  He  seems 
to  be  looking  far  ahead  already,  whereas  the  most  pressing 
matter  should  be  a  thing  of  to-morrow." 

"•Is  the  wedding  day  fixed?  " 

"  It  is  not.     He  writes  to  Sabina." 

"  Writes  !     Isn't  he  going  to  see  her  to-day !  " 

"  He  returns  to  London  to-night." 

Arthur  Waldron  also  asked  for  news,  for  Raymond  had 
apparently  been  unconscious  of  his  existence  at  the  funeral. 
He,  too,  noted  the  change  in  Ironsyde's  demeanour. 

"What  was  it?"  he  asked,  as  Mr.  Churchouse  walked 
beside  him  homeward.  "  Something  is  altered.  It's  more 
his  manner  than  his  appearance.  Of  course,  he  looks 


A  LETTER  FOR  SABINA          215 

played  out  after  his  shock,  but  it's  not  that.  Estelle 
thinks  it's  his  black  clothes." 

"  Stress  of  mind  and  anxiety,  no  doubt.  I  spoke  to  him ; 
but  he  was  rather  distant.  Not  unfriendly  —  he  called 
me  '  Uncle  Ernest '  as  usual  —  but  distant.  His  mind  is 
entirely  preoccupied  with  business." 

"What  about  Sabina?  " 

"  I  asked  him.  He's  writing  to  her.  She  wasn't  at  the 
funeral.  She  and  her  mother  kept  away  at  my  advice. 
But  I  certainly  thought  he  would  come  and  see  them  aft- 
erwards. However,  the  idea  hadn't  apparently  occurred 
to  him.  His  mind  is  full  of  other  things.  There  was  a 
suggestion  of  strength  —  of  power  —  something  new." 

"  He  must  be  very  strong  now,"  said  Estelle.  "  He  will 
have  to  be  strong,  because  the  Mill  is  all  his  and  every- 
thing depends  upon  him.  Doesn't  Sabina  feel  she  must  be 
strong,  too,  Mr.  Churchouse?  " 

"  Sabina  is  naturally  excited.  But  she  is  also  puzzled, 
because  it  seems  strange  that  anything  should  come  be- 
tween her  and  Raymond  at  a  time  like  this  —  even  the 
terrible  death  of  dear  Daniel.  She  has  been  counting  on 
hearing  from  him,  and  to-day  she  felt  quite  sure  he  would 
see  her." 

"  Is  the  wedding  put  off  then  ?  " 

"  I  trust  not.     She  is  to  hear  from  him  to-morrow." 

Raymond  kept  his  word  and  before  the  end  of  the  follow- 
ing day  Sabina  received  a  letter.  She  had  alternated, 
since  Daniel's  sudden  death,  between  fits  of  depression  and 
elation.  She  was  cast  down,  because  no  communication  of 
any  kind  had  reached  her  since  Raymond  hurried  off  on  the 
day  of  the  accident ;  and  she  was  elated,  because  the  future 
must  certainly  be  much  more  splendid  for  Raymond  now. 

She  explained  his  silence  easily  enough,  for  much  work 
devolved  upon  him ;  but  when  he  did  not  come  to  see  her  on 
the  day  of  the  funeral,  she  was  seriously  perturbed  and 
grew  excited,  unstrung  and  full  of  forebodings.  Her 


216  THE  SPINNERS 

mother  heard  from  those  who  had  seen  him  that  Raymond 
appeared  to  be  abstracted  and  *  kept  himself  to  himself ' 
entirely ;  which  led  to  anxiety  on  her  part  also. 
The  letter  defined  the  position. 

"  MY  DEAREST  SABINA, —  A  thing  like  the  death  of  my 
brother,  with  all  that  it  means  to  me,  cannot  happen  with- 
out having  very  far-reaching  results.  You  may  have  no- 
ticed for  some  time  before  this  occurred  that  I  felt  uneasy 
about  the  future  —  not  only  for  your  sake,  but  my  own  — 
and  I  had  long  felt  that  we  were  doing  a  very  doubtful 
thing  to  marry.  However,  as  circumstances  were  such 
then,  that  I  should  have  been  in  the  gutter  if  I  did  not 
marry,  I  was  going  to  do  so.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
choice,  though  I  felt  all  the  time  that  I  was  not  doing 
the  fair  thing  to  you,  or  myself. 

"  Now  the  case  is  altered  and  I  can  do  the  fair  thing  to 
you  and  myself,  because  circumstances  make  it  possible. 
I  have  got  tons  of  money  now,  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  I  want  you  to  share  it.  But  not  on  the  old  under- 
standing. I  hate  and  loathe  matrimony  and  everything 
to  do  with  it,  and  now  that  it  is  possible  to  avoid  the  in- 
stitution, I  intend  to  do  so. 

"  What  you  have  got  to  do  is  to  put  a  lot  of  stupid, 
conventional  ideas  out  of  your  mind,  and  not  worry  about 
other  people,  and  the  drivel  they  talk,  or  the  idiotic  things 
they  say.  We  weren't  conventional  last  year,  so  why  the 
dickens  should  we  be  this?  I'm  awfully  keen  about  you, 
Sabina,  and  awfully  keen  about  the  child  too ;  but  let  us 
be  sane  and  be  lovers  and  not  a  wretched  married  couple. 

"  If  you  will  come  and  be  my  housekeeper,  I  shall  wel- 
come you  with  rejoicings,  and  we  can  go  house-hunting 
again  and  find  something  worthier  of  us  and  take  bigger 
views. 

"  Don't  let  this  bowl  you  over  and  make  you  savage.  It 
is  simply  a  question  of  what  will  keep  us  the  best  friends, 


A  LETTER  FOR  SABINA          217 

and  wear  best.  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  in  the  long 
run  we  shall  be  happier  so,  than  chained  together  by  a  lot 
of  cursed  laws,  that  will  put  our  future  relations  on  a 
footing  that  denies  freedom  of  action  to  us  both.  Let's 
be  pioneers  and  set  a  good  example  to  people  and  help 
to  knock  on  the  head  the  imbecile  marriage  laws. 

"  I  am,  of  course,  going  to  put  you  all  right  from  a 
worldly  point  of  view  and  settle  a  good  income  upon  you, 
which  you  will  enjoy  independently  of  me;  and  I  also 
recognise  the  responsibility  of  our  child.  He  or  she  will  be 
my  heir,  and  nothing  will  be  spared  for  the  youngster. 

"  I  do  hope,  my  dearest  girl,  you  will  see  what  a  sensible 
idea  this  is.  It  means  liberty,  and  you  can't  have  real 
love  without  liberty.  If  we  married,  I  am  certain  that  in  a 
year  or  two  we  should  hate  each  other  like  the  devil,  and 
I  believe  you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do.  Marriage  is  out- 
grown —  it's  a  barbaric  survival  and  has  a  most  damnable 
effect  on  character.  If  we  are  to  be  close  chums  and  pre- 
serve our  self-respect,  we  must  steer  clear  of  it. 

"  I  am  very  sure  I  am  right.  I've  thought  a  lot  about  it 
and  heard  some  very  shrewd  men  in  London  speak  about 
it.  We  are  up  against  a  sort  of  battle  nowadays.  The 
idea  of  marriage  is  the  welfare  of  the  community,  and  the 
idea  of  freedom  is  the  welfare  of  the  individual ;  and  I,  for 
one,  don't  see  in  the  least  why  the  individual  should  go 
down  for  the  community.  What  has  the  community  done 
for  us,  that  we  should  become  slaves  for  it? 

"  Wealth  —  at  any  rate,  ample  means  —  does  several 
things  for  a  man.  It  opens  his  eyes  to  the  meaning  of 
power.  Power  is  a  fine  thing  if  it's  coupled  with  sense. 
Already  I  see  what  a  poor  creature  I  was  —  owing  to  the 
accident  of  poverty.  Now  you'll  find  what  a  huge  differ- 
ence power  makes.  It  changes  everything  and  turns  a 
child  into  a  man.  At  any  rate,  I've  been  a  child  till  now. 
You've  got  to  be  child-like  if  you're  poor. 

"  So  I  hope  you'll  take  this  in  the  spirit  I  write,  Sabina, 


218  THE  SPINNERS 

and  trust  me,  for  I'm  straight  as  a  line,  and  my  first 
thought  is  to  make  you  a  happy  woman.  That  I  certainly 
can  do,  if  you'll  let  me. 

"  I  shall  be  coming  home  presently ;  but,  for  the  moment, 
I  must  stop  here.  There  is  a  gigantic  deal  of  work  wait- 
ing for  me ;  but  working  for  myself  and  somebody  else  are 
two  very  different  things.  I  don't  grudge  the  work  now, 
since  the  result  of  the  work  means  more  power. 

"  I  hope  this  is  all  clear.  If  it  isn't,  we  must  thresh  it 
out  when  we  meet.  All  I  want  you  to  grasp  for  the  mo- 
ment is  that  I  love  you  as  well  as  ever  —  better  than  any- 
thing in  the  world  —  and,  because  I  want  us  to  be  the 
dearest  friends  always,  I'm  not  going  to  marry  you. 

"  Your  mother  and  Uncle  Ernest  will  of  course  take  the 
conventional  line,  and  my  Aunt  Jennie  will  do  the  same; 
but  I  hope  you  won't  bother  about  them.  Your  welfare 
lies  with  me.  Don't  let  them  talk  you  into  making  a 
martyr  of  yourself,  or  any  nonsense  of  that  sort. 

"  Always,  my  dearest  Sabina, 
"  Your  faithful  pal, 

«  RAY." 

Half  an  hour  later  Mrs.  Dinnett  took  the  letter  in  to 
Mr.  Churchouse. 

"  Death,"  she  said.  "  Death  is  in  the  air.  Sabina  has 
gone  to  bed  and  I'm  going  for  the  doctor.  He's  broke  off 
the  engagement  and  wants  her  to  be  his  housekeeper.  And 
this  is  a  Christian  country,  or  supposed  to  be.  Says  it's 
going  to  be  quite  all  right  and  offers  her  money  and  a 
lifetime  of  sin !  " 

"  Be  calm,  Mary,  be  calm.  You  must  have  misread  the 
letter.  Go  and  get  the  doctor  by  all  means  if  Sabina  has 
succumbed.  And  leave  the  letter  with  me.  I  will  read  it 
carefully.  That  is  if  it  is  not  private." 

"  No,  it  ain't  private.  He  slaps  at  us  all.  We're  all 
conventional  people,  which  means,  I  suppose,  that  we  fear 
God  and  keep  the  laws.  But  if  my  gentleman  thinks " 


A  LETTER  FOR  SABINA          219 

"  Go  and  get  the  doctor,  Mary.  Two  heads  are  better 
than  one  in  a  case  of  this  sort.  I  feel  sure  you  and 
Sabina  are  making  a  mistake." 

"  The  world  shall  ring,"  said  Mrs.  Dinnett,  "  and  we'll 
see  if  he  can  show  his  face  among  honest  men  again.  We 
that  have  abided  by  the  law  all  our  days  —  now  we'll  see 
what  the  law  can  do  for  us  against  this  godless  wretch." 

She  went  off  to  the  village  and  Ernest  cried  after  her  to 
say  nothing  at  present.  He  knew,  however,  as  he  spoke 
that  it  was  vain. 

Then  he  put  away  his  own  work  and  read  the  letter  very 
carefully  twice  through. 

Profound  sorrow  came  upon  him  and  his  innate  optimism 
was  over-clouded.  This  seemed  no  longer  the  Raymond 
Ironsyde  he  had  known  from  childhood.  It  was  not  even 
the  Raymond  of  a  month  ago.  He  perceived  how  poten- 
tial qualities  of  mind  had  awakened  in  the  new  conditions. 
He  was  philosophically  interested.  So  deeply  indeed  did 
the  psychological  features  of  the  change  occupy  his  re- 
flections, that  for  a  time  he  overlooked  their  immediate 
and  crushing  significance  in  the  affairs  of  another  person. 

Traces  of  the  old  Raymond  remained  in  the  promises  of 
unbounded  generosity  and  assurances  of  devotion ;  but  Mr. 
Churchouse  set  no  store  upon  them.  The  word  that  rang 
truest  was  Raymond's  acute  consciousness  of  power  and 
appreciation  thereof.  It  had,  as  he  said,  opened  his  eyes. 
Under  any  other  conditions  than  those  embracing  Sabina 
and  right  and  wrong,  as  Ernest  accepted  the  meaning  of 
right  and  wrong,  he  had  won  great  hope  from  the  letter. 
It  was  clear  that  Raymond  had  become  a  man  at  a  bound 
and  might  be  expected  to  develop  into  a  useful  man ;  but 
that  his  first  step  from  adolescence  was  to  involve  the  de- 
struction of  a  woman  and  child,  soon  submerged  all  lesser 
considerations  in  the  thinker's  mind.  Righteousness  was 
implicated,  and  to  start  his  new  career  with  a  cold-blooded 
crime  made  Mr.  Churchouse  tremble  for  the  entire  future 
of  the  criminal. 


THE  SPINNERS 

Yet  he  saw  very  little  hope  of  changing  Ironsyde's  deci- 
sion. Raymond  had  evidently  considered  the  matter, 
and  though  his  argument  was  abominable  in  Ernest's  view, 
and  nothing  more  than  a  cowardly  evasion  of  his  promises, 
he  suspected  that  the  writer  found  it  satisfy  his  con- 
science, since  its  further  education  in  the  consciousness  of 
power.  He  did  not  suppose  that  any  whose  opinion  he 
respected  would  alter  Raymond.  It  might  even  be  that  he 
was  honest  in  his  theories,  and  believed  himself  when  he 
said  that  marriage  would  end  by  destroying  his  love  for 
Sabina.  But  Mr.  Churchouse  did  not  pursue  that  line  of 
argument.  Had  not  Mary  Dinnett  just  reminded  him 
that  this  was  a  Christian  country? 

It  was,  of  course,  an  immoral  and  selfish  letter.  Ernest 
knew  exactly  how  it  would  strike  Miss  Ironsyde ;  but  he 
also  knew  that  many  people  without  principle  would  view 
it  as  reasonable. 

He  had  to  determine  what  he  was  going  to  do,  and  soon 
came  back  to  the  attitude  he  had  always  taken.  An  un- 
born, immortal  soul  must  be  considered,  and  it  was  idle 
for  Raymond  to  talk  about  making  the  coming  child  his 
heir.  Such  undertakings  were  vain.  The  young  man 
was  volatile  and  his  life  lay  before  him.  That  he  could 
make  this  offer  argued  an  indifference  to  Sabina's  honour 
which  no  promises  of  temporal  comfort  condoned.  For 
that  matter  he  must  surely  have  known  while  he  wrote 
that  it  would  be  rejected. 

The  outlook  appeared  exceedingly  hopeless.  Mr. 
Churchouse  rose  from  his  desk  and  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow. It  was  a  grey  and  silent  morning.  Only  a  big  mag- 
nolia leaf  tapped  at  the  casement  and  dripped  rain  from 
its  point.  And  overhead,  in  her  chamber,  Sabina  was  ly- 
ing stricken  and  speechless.  With  infinite  commiseration 
Mr.  Churchouse  considered  what  this  must  mean  to  her. 
It  was  as  though  Mrs.  Dinnett's  hysterical  words  had  come 
true.  Indeed,  the  tender-hearted  man  felt  that  death  was 


A  LETTER  FOR  SABINA          881 

in  his  house  —  death  of  fair  hopes,  death  of  a  young  and 
trusting  spirit. 

"  The  rising  generation  puts  a  strain  on  Christianity 
that  I'm  sure  it  was  never  called  to  bear  in  my  youth," 
reflected  Mr.  Churchouse. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MRS.    NORTHOVER    DECIDES 

WHEN  Richard  Gurd  began  to  consider  the  case  of  Nelly 
Northover,  his  mind  was  very  curiously  affected.  To  de- 
velop the  stages  by  which  he  arrived  at  his  startling  con- 
clusions might  be  attractive,  but  the  destination  is  more 
important  than  the  journey.  After  twenty-four  hours 
devoted  to  this  subject  alone,  Richard  had  not  only  de- 
cided that  Nelly  Northover  must  not  marry  Job  Legg; 
he  had  pushed  the  problem  of  his  friend  far  beyond  that 
point  and  found  it  already  complicated  by  a  greater  than 
Job. 

Indeed,  the  sudden  reminder  that  Nelly  was  a  comely 
and  personable  woman  had  affected  Richard  Gurd,  and  the 
thought  that  she  should  contemplate  marriage  caused  him 
some  preliminary  uneasiness.  He  could  no  more  see  her 
married  again  than  he  could  see  himself  taking  a  wife; 
yet  from  this  attitude,  progress  was  swift,  and  the  longer 
he  thought  upon  Mrs.  Northover,  the  more  steadily  did 
his  mind  drive  him  into  an  opinion  that  she  might  reason- 
ably wed  again  if  she  desired  to  do  so.  And  then  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  personal  concession  that  there  was  no  radical 
necessity  to  remain  single  himself.  Because  he  had 
reached  his  present  ripe  age  without  a  wife,  it  did  not  fol- 
low he  must  remain  for  ever  unmarried.  He  had  no  ob- 
jection to  marriage,  and  continued  a  bachelor  merely  be- 
cause he  had  never  found  any  woman  desirable  in  his  eyes. 
Moreover  he  disliked  children. 

He  had  reached  this  stage  of  the  argument  before  he 
slept,  and  when  he  woke  again,  he  found  his  mind  consider- 
ably advanced  along  the  road  to  Nelly.  He  now  came  to 

222 


MRS.  NORTHOVER  DECIDES 

the  deliberate  conclusion  that  he  wanted  her.  The  dis- 
covery amazed  him,  but  he  could  not  escape  it ;  and  in  the 
light  of  such  a  surprise  he  became  a  little  dazzled.  Sudden 
soul  movements  of  such  force  and  complexity  made  Richard 
Gurd  selfish.  It  is  a  fact,  that  before  he  went  at  the  ap- 
pointed time  to  see  the  mistress  of  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  he 
had  forgotten  all  about  Job  Legg  and  was  entirely  con- 
cerned with  his  own  tremendous  project.  Full  grown  and 
complete  at  all  vital  points  it  sprang  from  his  energetic 
brain.  He  had  reached  the  high  personal  ambition  of 
wanting  to  marry  Mrs.  Northover  himself,  and  their 
friendship  of  many  years  had  been  so  complete,  that  he  felt 
sanguine  from  the  moment  that  his  great  determination 
dawned. 

But  she  spoke  and  quickly  reminded  him  of  what  she  was 
expecting. 

"  And  how  d'you  think  about  it?  Shall  it  be,  or  shan't 
it,  Richard?" 

They  were  in  the  private  parlour. 

"  Leave  that,"  he  said.  "  I  can  assure  you  that  little 
affair  is  already  a  thing  of  the  past.  In  fact,  my  mind 
has  moved  such  a  long  way  since  you  came  to  see  me  yes- 
terday, that  I'd  forgot  what  you  came  about.  But,  after 
all,  that  was  the  starting  point.  Now  a  very  curious  thing 
has  fallen  out,  and  looking  back,  I  can  only  say  that  the 
wonder  is  it  didn't  fall  out  long  years  ago." 

"  It  did,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,"  explained  Mrs. 
Northover.  "  Mr.  Legg  has  been  hoping  for  this  for 
years." 

"  The  Lord  often  chooses  a  fool  to  light  the  road  of  the 
wise,  my  dear.  Not  that  Job's  a  fool,  and  a  more  self- 
respecting  man  you  won't  find.  In  fact  I  shall  always  feel 
kindly  to  your  potman,  for,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  you 
may  say  he's  helped  to  show  me  my  own  duty." 

"  I  dare  say  he  has  ;  he's  a  lesson  to  us  all." 

"  He  is,  but,  all  the  same,  it's  confounding  class  with 
class  tp  think  of  him  as  a.  husband  for  you.  Not  that  I've 


224  THE  SPINNERS 

got  any  class  prejudice  myself.  You  can't  keep  a  hotel 
year  in,  year  out,  and  allow  yourself  the  luxury  of  class 
prejudice;  but  be  that  as  it  may,  Legg,  though  he  adorns 
his  class,  wouldn't  adorn  ours  in  my  opinion.  And  yet  I'll 
say  this :  I  believe  it  was  put  to  him  by  Providence  to  offer 
for  you,  so  that  you  might  be  lifted  to  higher  things." 

"  Speak  English,  my  dear  man.  I  don't  exactly  know 
what  you're  talking  about.  But  I  suppose  you  mean  I'd 
better  not?  " 

Mrs.  Northover  was  a  little  disappointed  and  Richard 
perceived  it. 

"  Be  calm,  and  don't  let  me  sweep  you  off  your  feet  as 
I've  been  swept  off  mine,"  he  answered.  "  Since  I  dis- 
covered marriage  was  a  possibility  in  your  mind,  I  am 
obliged  to  confess  that  it's  grown  up  to  be  a  possibility  in 
mine.  And  why  not?  " 

"  No  reason  at  all.  'Twas  the  wonder  of  Bridport,  you 
might  say  for  years,  why  you  remained  single." 

"  Well,  this  I'll  tell  you,  Nelly ;  I'm  not  going  to  have 
you  marrying  any  Dick,  Tom  or  Harry  that's  daring 
enough  to  lift  his  eyes  to  you  and  cheeky  enough  to  offer. 
And  when  the  thought  came  in  my  mind,  I  very  soon  found 
that  this  event  rose  up  ideas  that  might  have  slumbered 
till  eternity,  but  for  Job  Legg.  And  that's  why  I  say 
Providence  is  in  it.  I've  felt  a  great  admiration  for  your 
judgment,  and  good  sense,  and  fine  appearance,  ever  since 
the  blow  fell  and  your  husband  was  taken.  And  we  know 
each  other  pretty  close  and  have  got  no  secrets  from  each 
other.  And  now  you  may  say  I've  suddenly  seen  the  light ; 
and  if  you've  got  half  the  opinion  of  me  that  I  have  of 
you,  no  doubt  you'll  thank  your  God  to  hear  what  I'm 
saying  and  answer  according." 

"Good  powers!  You  want  to  marry  me  yourself?" 
gasped  Mrs.  Northover. 

"  By  all  your  <  Seven  Stars  '  I  do,"  he  said.  "  In  fact, 
I  want  for  '  The  Tiger  '  to  swallow  the  '  Seven  Stars,'  in  a 
poetical  way  of  speaking.  I'm  a  downright  man  and 


MRS.  NORTHOVER  DECIDES 

never  take  ten  minutes  where  five's  enough,  so  there  it  is. 
It  came  over  me  last  night  as  a  thing  that  must  be  —  like 
the  conversion  of  Paul.  And  I'll  go  further ;  I  won't  have 
you  beat  about  the  bush,  Nelly.  You're  the  sort  of 
woman  that  can  make  up  your  mind  in  a  big  thing  as  quick 
as  you  can  in  a  small  thing.  I  consider  there's  been  a  good 
deal  of  a  delicate  and  tender  nature  going  on  between  us, 
though  we  were  too  busy  to  notice  it ;  but  now  the  bud  have 
burst  into  flower,  and  I  see  amazing  clear  we  were  made  for 
each  other.  In  fact,  I  ain't  going  to  take  c  no  '  for  an 
answer,  my  dear.  I've  never  asked  a  female  to  marry  me 
until  this  hour;  and  I  have  not  waited  into  greyness  and 
ripeness  to  hear  a  negative.  I'm  sure  of  myself,  naturally, 
and  I  well  know  that  you'd  only  be  a  thought  less  fortunate 
than  I  shall  be." 

"  Stop ! "  she  said,  "  and  let  me  think.  I'm  terrible 
flattered  at  this,  and  I'll  go  so  far  as  to  say  there's  rhyme 
and  reason  in  it,  Richard.  But  you  run  on  so.  I  feel  my 
will  power  fairly  oozing  out  of  me." 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  answered.  "  Your  will  power's  what  I 
rely  upon.  You're  a  forceful  person  yourself  and  you 
naturally  approve  of  forcefulness  in  others.  There's  no 
reason  why  you  shouldn't  love  me  as  well  as  I  love  you ; 
and,  for  that  matter,  you  do." 

"  Well,  I  must  have  time.  I  must  drop  Legg  civilly 
and  break  it  to  him  gradual." 

"  I'll  meet  you  there.  You  needn't  tell  him  you're  going 
to  be  married  all  in  a  minute.  He'll  find  that  out  for  him- 
self very  quick.  So  will  everybody.  If  a  thing's  worth 
doing,  try  to  do  it  —  that's  my  motto.  But,  for  the  mo- 
ment, you  can  say  that  your  affections  are  given  in  another 
quarter." 

"  Of  course,  it's  a  great  thing  for  me,  Richard.  I'm 
very  proud  of  it." 

"  And  so  am  I.  And  Job  Legg  was  the  dumb  instru- 
ment, so  I  am  the  last  to  quarrel  with  him.  Just  tell  him, 
that  failing  another,  you  might  have  thought  on  him; 


226  THE  SPINNERS 

but  that  the  die  is  cast ;  and  when  he  hears  his  fate,  he'll 
naturally  want  to  know  who  'tis.  And  then  the  great 
secret  must  come  out.  I  should  reckon  after  Easter  would 
be  a  very  good  time  for  us  to  wed." 

"  I  can't  believe  my  senses,"  she  said. 

"  You  will  in  a  week,"  he  assured  her ;  "  and,  meanwhile, 
I  shall  do  my  best  to  help  you.  In  a  week  the  joyful  tid- 
ings go  out  to  the  people." 

He  kissed  her,  shook  her  hand  and  squeezed  it.  Then 
he  departed  leaving  Mrs.  Northover  in  the  extremity  of 
bewilderment.  But  pleasure  and  great  pride  formed  no 
small  part  of  her  mingled  emotions. 

One  paramount  necessity  darkened  all,  however.  Nelly 
felt  a  very  sharp  pang  when  she  thought  upon  Mr.  Legg, 
and  her  sufferings  increased  as  the  day  advanced  until  they 
quite  mastered  the  situation  and  clouded  the  brightness  of 
conquest.  Other  difficulties  and  doubts  also  obtruded  as 
she  began  to  estimate  the  immensity  of  the  thing  that  Mr. 
Gurd's  ardour  had  prompted  her  to  do ;  but  Job  was  the 
primal  problem  and  she  knew  that  she  could  not  sleep  until 
she  had  made  her  peace  with  him. 

She  determined  to  leave  him  in  no  doubt  concerning  his 
successful  rival.  The  confession  would  indeed  make  it 
easier  for  them  both.  At  least  she  hoped  it  might  do  so. 

He  came  for  keys  after  closing  time  and  she  bade  him  sit 
down  in  the  chair  which  Richard  Gurd  had  that  morning 
filled.  One  notes  trifles  at  the  supremest  moments  of  life, 
and  the  trifles  often  stick,  while  the  great  events  which 
accompany  them  fade  into  the  past.  Mrs.  Northover  ob- 
served that  while  Richard  Gurd  had  filled  the  chair  —  and 
overflowed,  Mr.  Legg  by  no  means  did  so.  He  occupied 
but  the  centre  of  the  spacious  seat.  There  seemed  a  sig- 
nificance in  that. 

"  Sit  down,  Job,  and  listen.  I've  got  to  say  something 
that  will  hurt  you,  my  dear  man.  I've  made  my  choice, 
after  a  good  bit  of  deep  thought  I  assure  you,  and  I've 
• —  I've  chosen  the  other,  Job," 


MRS.  NORTHOVER  DECIDES 

He  stared  and  his  thin  jaws  worked.  His  nostrils  also 
twitched. 

"  I  didn't  know  there  was  another." 

"  More  didn't  I,"  answered  she.  "  I'm  nothing  if  not 
honest,  and  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  didn't  know  it  either 
till  he  offered.  He  was  a  lifelong  friend,  and  I  asked  him 
about  what  I  ought  to  be  doing,  and  then  it  came  out  he 
had  already  thought  of  me  as  a  wife  and  was  biding  his 
time.  He  had  nought  but  praise  for  you,  as  all  men  have ; 
but  there  it  is  —  Richard  Gurd  is  very  wishful  to  marry 
me ;  and  you  must  understand  this  clearly,  Job.  If  it  had 
been  any  lesser  man  than  him,  or  any  other  man  in  the 
world,  for  that  matter,  I  wouldn't  have  taken  him.  I'm 
very  fond  of  you,  and  a  finer  character  I've  never  known ; 
but  when  Richard  offered  —  well,  you're  among  the  clever 
ones  and  I'm  sure  you'd  be  the  last  to  put  yourself  up 
against  a  man  of  his  standing  and  fame.  And  my  first 
husband's  lifelong  friend,  you  must  remember.  And 
though,  after  all  these  years,  it  may  seem  strange  to  a 
great  many  people,  it  won't  seem  strange  to  you,  I  hope." 

"  It's  a  very  ill-convenient  time  to  hear  this,"  said  Mr. 
Legg  mildly. 

Then  he  stopped  and  regarded  her  with  his  little,  shrewd 
eyes.  He  seemed  less  occupied  with  the  tremendous  pres- 
ent than  the  future.  Presently  he  went  on  again,  while 
Mrs.  Northover  stared  at  him  with  an  expression  of  genu- 
ine sadness. 

"  All  I  can  say  is  that  I  wish  Gurd  had  offered  sooner, 
and  not  led  me  into  this  tremendous  misfortune.  Of 
course,  him  and  me  aren't  in  the  same  street  and  I  won't 
pretend  it,  for  none  would  be  deceived  if  I  did.  But  I  say 
again  it's  very  unfortunate  he  hung  fire  till  he  heard  that 
I  had  made  my  offer.  For  if  he'd  spoke  first,  I  should  have 
held  my  peace  and  gone  on  my  appointed  way  and  stopped 
at  '  The  Seven  Stars.'  But  now,  if  this  happens,  all  is 
over  and  the  course  of  my  life  is  changed.  In  fact,  it  is 
not  too  much  to  say  I  shall  leave  Bridport,  though  how 


228  THE  SPINNERS 

any  person  can  live  comfortably  away  from  Bridport,  I 
don't  know." 

Mrs.  Northover  felt  relief  that  he  should  thus  fasten 
on  such  a  minor  issue,  and  never  liked  him  better  than  at 
that  moment.  "  Thank  God,  he's  took  it,  lying  down !  " 
she  thought,  then  spoke. 

"  Don't  you  leave,  my  dear  man.  Bridport  won't  be 
Bridport  without  you,  and  you've  always  been  a  true  and 
valued  friend  to  me,  and  such  a  helpful  and  sensible  crea- 
ture that  I  shall  only  know  in  the  next  world  all  I  owe 
you.  And  between  us,  I  don't  see  no  reason  at  all  why 
you  shouldn't  go  on  as  my  potman  and  — *  more  than  that 
—  why  shouldn't  you  marry  a  nice  woman  yourself  and 
bring  her  here,  if  you've  got  a  mind  to  it !  " 

He  expressed  no  indignation.  Again,  it  seemed  that  the 
future  was  his  sole  concern  and  that  he  designed  to  waste 
no  warmth  on  his  disappointment. 

"  There  never  was  but  one  woman  for  me  and  never  will 
be ;  and  as  to  stopping  here,  I  might,  or  I  might  not,  for 
I've  always  had  my  feelings  under  very  nice  control  and 
shouldn't  break  the  rule  of  a  lifetime.  But  you  won't  be 
at  4  The  Seven  Stars  '  yourself  much  longer,  and  I  cer- 
tainly don't  serve  under  any  other  but  you.  In  fact  this 
house  and  garden  would  only  be  a  deserted  wilderness  to  my 
view,  if  you  wasn't  reigning  over  'em." 

He  spoke  in  his  usual  emotionless  voice,  but  he  woke 
very  active  phenomena  in  Mrs.  Northover.  Her  face  grew 
troubled  and  she  looked  into  his  eyes  with  a  frown. 

"  Me  gone !  What  do  you  mean,  Legg?  Me  leave  '  The 
Seven  Stars  '  after  thirty-four  years  ?  " 

"  No  doubt  your  first  would  turn  in  his  grave  if  you  did," 
he  admitted;  "  but  what  about  it?  When  you're  mistress 
of  '  The  Tiger ' —  well,  then  you're  mistress  of  *  The 
Tiger,5  and  you  can't  be  in  two  places  at  once  —  clever  as 
you  are." 

He  had  given  her  something  to  think  about.  The  pos- 
sibility of  guile  in  Mr.  Legg  had  never  struck  the  least, 


MRS.  NORTHOVER  DECIDES      889 

or  greatest,  of  his  admirers.  He  was  held  a  simple  soul 
of  transparent  probity,  yet,  for  a  moment,  it  almost 
seemed  as  though  his  last  remark  carried  an  inner  mean- 
ing. Nelly  dismissed  the  suspicion  as  unworthy  of  Job; 
but  none  the  less,  though  he  had  doubtless  spoken  without 
any  sinister  purpose,  his  opinions  gave  her  pause.  Indeed, 
they  shook  her.  She  had  been  too  much  excited  to  look 
ahead.  Now  she  was  called  to  do  so. 

Mr.  Legg  removed  the  bunch  of  keys  from  its  nail  and 
prepared  to  go  on  his  way. 

She  felt  weak. 

"  To  play  second  fiddle  for  the  rest  of  your  life  after 
playing  first  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  is  a  far-reaching 
thought,"  she  said. 

"Without  a  doubt  it  would  be,"  he  admitted.  "Of 
course,  with  some  men  you  wouldn't  be  called  to  do  it. 
With  Richard  Gurd,  you  would." 

"  To  leave  6  The  Seven  Stars  ' !  Somehow  I'd  always 
regarded  our  place  as  a  higher  class  establishment  than 
*  The  Tiger ' —  along  of  the  tea-gardens  and  pleasure 
ground  and  the  class  of  company." 

"  And  quite  right  to  do  so.  But  that's  only  your  opin- 
ion, and  mine.  It  won't  be  his.  Good  night." 

He  left  her  deep  in  thought,  then  five  minutes  after- 
wards thrust  his  long  nose  round  the  door  again. 

"  The  English  of  it  is  you  can't  have  anything  for 
nothing  —  not  in  this  weary  world,"  he  said. 

Then  he  disappeared. 

A  week  later  Sarah  Northover  came  to  see  her  aunt  and 
congratulate  her  on  the  great  news. 

"  Now  people  know  it,"  said  Sarah,  "  they  all  wonder 
how  ever  'twas  you  and  Mister  Gurd  didn't  marry  long 
ago." 

"  We've  been  wondering  the  same,  for  that  matter,  and 
Richard  takes  the  blame  —  naturally,  since  I  couldn't  say 
the  word  before  he  asked  the  question.  But  for  your  ear 


230  THE  SPINNERS 

and  only  yours,  Sarah,  I  can  whisper  that  this  thing  didn't 
go  by  rule.  And  in  sober  honesty  I  do  believe  if  he  hadn't 
heard  another  man  wanted  me,  Mister  Gurd  would  never 
have  found  out  he  did.  But  such  are  the  strange  things 
that  happen  in  human  nature,  no  doubt." 

"  Another !  "  said  Sarah.  "  They're  making  up  for  lost 
time,  seemingly." 

"  Another,  and  a  good  man,"  declared  her  aunt ;  "  but 
his  name  is  sacred,  and  you  mustn't  ask  to  know  it." 

Sarah  related  events  at  Bridetown. 

"  You've  heard,  of  course,  about  the  goings  on?  Mister 
Ironsyde  don't  marry  Sabina,  and  her  mother  wants  to 
have  the  law  against  him;  but  though  Sabina's  in  a  sad 
state  and  got  to  be  watched,  she  won't  have  the  law.  We 
only  hear  scraps  about  it,  because  Nancy  Buckler,  her 
great  friend,  is  under  oath  of  secrecy.  But  if  he  shows 
his  face  at  Bridetown,  it's  very  likely  he'll  be  man-handled. 
Then,  against  that,  there's  rumours  in  the  air  he'll  make 
great  changes  at  the  Mill,  and  may  put  up  all  our  money. 
In  that  case,  I  don't  think  he'd  be  treated  very  rough,  be- 
cause, as  my  Mister  Roberts  says,  *  Self-preservation  is 
the  first  law  of  nature,'  and  always  have  been ;  and  if  he's 
going  to  better  us  it  will  mean  a  lot." 

"  Don't  you  be  too  hopeful,  however,"  warned  Mrs. 
Northover.  "  There's  a  deal  of  difference  between  holding 
the  reins  yourself  and  saying  sharp  things  against  them 
who  are.  He's  hard,  and  last  time  he  was  in  this  house  but 
one,  he  got  as  drunk  as  a  lord  and  Legg  helped  him  to  bed. 
And  he  quarrelled  very  sharp  with  Mister  Gurd  for  giving 
him  good  advice ;  and  Richard  says  the  young  man  is  iron 
painted  to  look  like  wood.  And  he's  rarely  mistook." 

"  But  he  always  did  tell  us  we  never  got  enough  money 
for  our  work,"  argued  Sarah.  "  And  if  anything  comes 
of  it  and  Nicholas  and  me  earn  five  bob  more  a  week 
between  us,  it  means  marriage.  So  I'm  in  a  twitter." 

"What  does  John  Best  say?" 

"  Nought.     We  can't  get  a  word  out  of  him.     All  we 


MRS.  NORTHOVER  DECIDES 

know  is  we're  cruel  busy  and  orders  flow  in  like  a  river. 
But  that  was  poor  Mister  Daniel's  work,  no  doubt." 

"  Marriage  is  in  the  air,  seemingly,"  reflected  Nelly. 
"  It  mightn't  be  altogether  a  bad  thing  if  you  and  me 
went  to  the  altar  together,  Sarah.  'Twas  always  under- 
stood you'd  be  married  from  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  and  the 
sight  of  a  young  bride  and  bridegroom  would  soften  the 
ceremony  a  bit  and  distract  the  eye  from  me  and  Richard." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  answered  the  girl.  "  There  won't  be 
no  eyes  for  small  folks  like  us  on  the  day  you  take  Mister 
Gurd.  'Twould  be  one  expense  without  a  doubt ;  but  I'm 
certain  positive  he  wouldn't  like  for  us  little  people  to 
be  mixed  up  with  it.  'Twould  lessen  the  blaze  from  his 
point  of  view,  and  a  man  such  as  him  wouldn't  approve 
of  that." 

"  Perhaps  you're  right,"  admitted  her  aunt,  with  a 
massive  sigh.  "  He's  a  masterful  piece,  and  the  affair  will 
be  carried  out  as  he  wills." 

"  I  can't  see  you  away  from  4  The  Seven  Stars,'  some- 
how, Aunt  Nelly." 

"  That's  what  everybody  says.  More  can't  I  see  my- 
self away  for  that  matter.  But  Richard  said  '  The  Tiger  ' 
would  swallow  *  The  Seven  Stars,'  and  I  know  what  he 
meant  now." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  WOMAN'S  DARKNESS 

THE  blood  of  Sabina  Dinnett  was  poisoned  through  an 
ordeal  of  her  life  when  it  should  have  run  at  its  purest  and 
sweetest.  That  the  man  who  had  promised  to  marry  her, 
had  exhausted  the  vocabulary  of  love  for  her,  should  thus 
cast  her  off,  struck  her  into  a  frantic  calenture  which,  for 
a  season,  threatened  her  existence.  The  surprise  of  his 
decision  was  not  absolute  and  utter,  otherwise  such  a  shock 
might  indeed  have  killed  her;  but  there  lacked  not  many 
previous  signs  to  show  that  Raymond  Ironsyde  had  strayed 
from  his  old  enthusiasm  and  found  the  approach  of  mar- 
riage finally  quench  love.  The  wronged  girl  could  look 
back  and  see  a  thousand  such  warnings,  while  she  re- 
membered also  a  dark  dread  in  her  heart  as  to  what  might 
possibly  overtake  her  on  the  death  of  Daniel.  True  the 
shadow  had  lasted  but  a  moment;  she  banished  it,  as  un- 
worthy, and  preferred  to  dwell  on  the  increased  happiness 
and  prosperity  that  must  accrue  to  Raymond;  but  the 
passing  fear  had  touched  her  first,  and  she  could  look  back 
now  and  mark  how  deeply  doubt  tinctured  all  her  waking 
hours  since  the  necessity  arose  for  Raymond  to  wed. 

For  a  few  days  she  raged  and  was  only  comforted  with 
difficulty.  Mr.  Churchouse  and  Jenny  Ironsyde  both 
visited  Sabina  and  bade  her  control  herself  and  keep  calm, 
lest  worst  things  should  happen  to  her.  Ernest  was  still 
sanguine  that  the  young  man  would  regret  his  suggestions ; 
but  Jenny  quenched  this  hope. 

"  It  is  all  of  a  piece,"  she  said,  "  and,  looking  back,  I 
see  it.  His  instinct  and  will  are  against  any  such  binding 
thing  as  marriage.  He  wants  to  make  her  happy ;  but  if 
to  do  so  is  to  make  himself  miserable,  then  she  must  go  un- 

232 


THE  WOMAN'S  DARKNESS       233 

happy.  Some  bad  girls  might  accept  his  offer;  but 
Sabina,  of  course,  cannot.  She  is  not  made  of  the  stuff 
to  sink  to  this,  and  it  was  only  because  he  always  insisted 
on  the  vital  need  for  her  to  complete  his  life,  that  she  for- 
got her  wisdom  in  the  past  and  believed  they  were  really 
the  complement  of  each  other.  As  if  a  woman  ever  was, 
or  ever  will  be,  the  real  complement  of  a  man,  or  a  man, 
the  complement  of  a  woman !  They  are  only  complemen- 
tary as  meat  and  drink  to  the  hungry." 

After  some  days  Sabina  read  Raymond's  letter  again 
and  it  now  awoke  a  new  passion.  At  first  she  had  hated 
herself  and  talked  of  doing  herself  an  injury ;  but  this  was 
hysteria  bred  of  suffering,  since  she  had  not  the  tempera- 
ment to  commit  self-destruction.  Now  her  rage  burned 
against  the  child  that  she  was  doomed  to  bring  into  the 
world,  and  she  brooded  secretly  on  how  its  end  might  be 
accomplished.  She  knew  the  peril  to  herself  of  any  such 
attempt;  but  while  she  could  not  have  committed  suicide, 
she  faced  the  thought  of  the  necessary  risks.  If  the  child 
lived,  the  hateful  link  must  exist  forever,  if  it  perished, 
she  would  be  free.  So  she  argued. 

Full  of  this  idea,  she  rose  from  her  bed,  went  about  and 
found  some  little  consolation  in  the  sympathy  of  her 
friends.  They  cursed  the  man  until  they  heard  what  he 
had  written  to  her.  Then  a  change  came  over  their  criti- 
cism, for  they  were  not  tuned  to  Sabina's  pitch,  and  it 
seemed  to  them,  from  their  more  modest  standards  of  edu- 
cation, combined  with  the  diminished  self-respect  where 
ignorance  obtains,  that  Raymond's  offer  was  fair  —  even 
handsome.  Some,  indeed,  still  mourned  with  her  and 
shared  her  fierce  indignation;  some  simulated  anger  to 
please  her;  but  most  confessed  to  themselves  that  she  had 
not  much  to  grumble  at. 

A  wise  woman  warned  her  against  any  attempt  to  tam- 
per with  the  child.  It  was  too  late  and  the  danger  far 
too  serious.  So  she  passed  through  the  second  phase  of 
her  sufferings  and  went  from  hatred  of  herself  and  loath- 


THE  SPINNERS 

ing  of  her  load,  to  acute  detestation  of  the  man  who  had 
destroyed  her. 

His  offer  seemed  to  her  more  villainous  than  his  deser- 
tion. His  ignorance  of  her  true  self,  the  insolence  and 
contempt  that  prompted  such  a  proposal,  the  view  of  her 
— ?  these  thoughts  lashed  her  into  fury.  She  longed  for 
some  one  to  help  her  against  him  and  treat  him  as  he  de- 
served to  be  treated.  She  felt  equal  to  making  any  sacri- 
fice, if  only  he  might  be  debased  and  scorned  and  pointed 
at  as  he  deserved  to  be.  She  felt  that  her  emotions  must 
be  shared  by  every  honourable  woman  and  decent  man. 
Her  spirit  hungered  for  a  great  revenge. 

At  first  she  dreamed  of  a  personal  action.  She  longed 
to  tear  him  with  her  nails,  outrage  him  in  people's  eyes  and 
make  him  suffer  in  his  flesh ;  but  that  passed :  she  knew 
she  could  not  do  it.  A  man  was  needed  to  extort  punish- 
ment from  Raymond.  But  no  man  existed  who  would  un- 
dertake the  task.  She  must  then  find  such  a  man.  She 
even  sought  him.  But  she  did  not  find  him.  The  search 
led  to  bitter  discoveries.  If  women  could  forgive  her  be- 
trayer; if  women  could  say,  as  presently  they  said,  that 
she  did  not  know  her  luck,  men  were  still  more  indifferent. 

The  attitude  of  the  world  to  her  sufferings  horrified 
Sabina.  She  had  none  to  love  her  —  none,  at  least,  to 
show  his  love  by  assaulting  and  injuring  her  enemy.  Only 
a  certain  number  even  took  up  the  cudgels  for  her  in 
speech.  Of  these  Levi  Baggs,  the  hackler,  was  the  strong- 
est. But  his  misanthropy  embraced  her  also.  He  had 
said  harsh  things  of  his  new  master;  but  neither  had  he 
spared  the  victim. 

Upon  these  three  great  periods,  of  rage,  futile  passion, 
and  hate,  there  followed  a  lethargy  from  which  Ernest 
Churchouse  tried  in  vain  to  rouse  Sabina.  He  appre- 
hended worse  results  from  this  coma  of  mind  and  body 
than  from  the  flux  of  her  natural  indignation.  He  spent 
much  time  with  her  and  bade  her  hope  that  Raymond 
might  still  reconsider  his  future. 


THE  WOMAN'S  DARKNESS       235 

None  had  yet  seen  him  since  his  brother's  funeral,  and 
his  aunt  received  no  answer  to  a  very  strenuous  plea.  He 
wrote  to  her,  indeed,  about  affairs,  and  even  asked  her  for 
advice  upon  certain  matters ;  but  they  affected  the  past 
and  Daniel  rather  than  the  future  and  himself.  She  could 
not  fail  to  notice  the  supreme  change  that  power  had 
brought  with  it ;  his  very  handwriting  seemed  to  have  ac- 
quired a  firmer  line;  while  his  diction  certainly  showed 
more  strength  of  purpose.  Could  power  modify  charac- 
ter? It  seemed  impossible.  She  supposed,  rather,  that 
character,  latent  till  this  sudden  change  of  fortune,  had 
been  revealed  by  power.  Her  first  fears  for  the  future  of 
the  business  abated ;  but  with  increasing  respect  for  Ray- 
mond, the  former  affection  perished.  She  was  firm  in  her 
moral  standards,  and  to  find  his  first  use  of  power  an  eva- 
sion of  solemn  and  sacred  promises,  made  Miss  Ironsyde 
Raymond's  enemy.  That  he  ignored  her  appeals  to  his 
manhood  and  honesty  did  not  modify  her  changed  attitude. 
She  found  herself  much  wounded  by  his  callous  conduct, 
and  while  his  past  weakness  had  been  forgiven,  his  new 
strength  proved  unforgivable. 

Her  appeal  was,  however,  indirectly  acknowledged,  for 
Sabina  received  another  letter  from  Raymond  in  which  he 
mentioned  Miss  Ironsyde's  communication. 

"  My  aunt,"  he  wrote,  "  does  not  realise  the  situation, 
or  appreciate  the  fact  that  love  may  remain  a  much  more 
enduring  and  lively  emotion  outside  marriage  than  inside 
it.  There  are,  of  course,  people  who  find  chains  bearable 
enough,  and  even  grow  to  like  them,  as  convicts  were  said 
to  do ;  but  you  are  not  such  a  craven,  no  more  am  I.  We 
must  think  of  the  future,  not  the  past,  and  I  feel  very  sure 
that  if  we  married,  the  result  would  be  death  to  our  friend- 
ship. We  had  a  splendid  time,  and  we  might  still  have  a 
splendid  time,  if  you  could  be  unconventional  and  realise 
how  many  other  women  are  also.  But  probably  you  have 
decided  against  my  suggestions,  or  I  should  have  heard 
from  you.  So  I  suppose  you  hate  me,  and  I'm  awfully 


236  THE  SPINNERS 

sorry  to  think  it.  You  won't  come  to  me,  then.  But  that 
doesn't  lessen  my  obligations,  and  I'm  going  to  take  every 
possible  care  of  you  and  your  child,  Sabina,  whether  you 
come  or  not.  He  is  my  child,  too,  and  I  shan't  forget  it. 
If  you  would  like  to  see  me  you  shall  when  I  return  to 
Bridport,  pretty  soon  now ;  but  if  you  would  rather  not  do 
so,  then  let  me  know  who  represents  you,  and  I  will  hear 
what  you  and  your  mother  would  wish." 

She  wrote  several  answers  to  this  and  destroyed  them. 
They  were  bitter  and  contemptuous,  and  as  each  was  fin- 
ished she  realised  its  futility.  She  could  but  sting;  she 
could  not  seriously  hurt.  Even  her  sting  would  not 
trouble  him  much,  for  a  man  who  had  done  what  he  had 
done,  was  proof  against  the  scorn  and  hate  of  a  woman. 
Only  greater  power  than  his  own  could  make  him  feel. 
Her  powerlessness  maddened  her  —  her  powerlessness  con- 
trasted with  his  remorseless  strength.  But  he  used  his 
strength  like  a  coward. 

Some  of  her  friends  urged  her  to  take  legal  action 
against  Raymond  Ironsyde  and  demand  mighty  damages. 

"  You  can  hurt  him  there,  if  you  can't  anywhere  else," 
said  Nancy  Buckler.  "  You  say  you're  too  weak  to  hurt 
him,  but  you're  not.  Knock  his  money  out  of  him;  you 
ought  to  get  thousands." 

Her  mother,  for  a  time,  was  of  the  same  opinion.  It 
seemed  a  right  and  reasonable  thing  that  Sabina  should 
not  be  called  upon  to  face  her  ruined  life  without  some 
compensation,  but  she  found  herself  averse  from  this. 
The  thought  of  touching  his  money,  or  availing  herself  of 
it  in  any  way,  was  horrible  to  her.  She  knew,  moreover, 
that  such  an  arrangement  would  go  far  to  soothe  Ray- 
mond's conscience ;  and  the  more  he  paid,  probably  the 
happier  he  would  feel.  For  other  causes  also  she  declined 
to  take  any  legal  steps  against  him,  and  in  this  decision 
Ernest  Churchouse  supported  her. 

He  had  been  her  prime  consolation  indeed,  and  though, 
at  first,  his  line  of  argument  only  left  Sabina  impatient. 


THE  WOMAN'S  DARKNESS       237 

by  degrees  —  by  very  slow  degrees  —  she  inclined  to  him 
and  suffered  herself  to  hope  he  might  not  be  mistaken. 
He  urged  patience  and  silence.  He  held  that  Raymond 
Ironsyde  would  presently  return  to  that  better  and  wor- 
thier self,  which  could  not  be  denied  him.  His  own 
abounding  charity,  where  humanity  was  concerned,  hon- 
estly induced  Ernest  to  hope  and  almost  believe  that  the 
son  of  Henry  Ironsyde  had  made  these  proposals  under 
excitation  of  mind ;  that  he  was  thrown  off  his  balance  by 
the  pressure  of  events ;  and  that,  presently,  when  he  had 
time  to  remember  the  facts  concerning  Sabina,  he  would 
be  heartily  ashamed  of  himself  and  make  the  only  ade- 
quate amends. 

It  was  not  unnatural  that  the  girl  should  find  in  this 
theory  her  highest  consolation.  She  clung  to  it  desper- 
ately, though  few  but  Mr.  Churchouse  himself  accounted 
it  of  any  consequence.  Him,  however,  she  had  been  ac- 
customed to  consider  the  fountain  of  wisdom,  and  though, 
with  womanhood,  she  had  lived  to  see  his  opinions  mis- 
taken and  his  trust  often  abused,  yet  disappointments  did 
not  change  a  sanguine  belief  in  his  fellow  creatures. 

So,  thankful  to  repose  her  mind  on  another,  Sabina  for 
a  while  came  to  standing-ground  in  her  storm-stricken 
journey.  Each  day  was  an  eternity,  but  she  strove  to  be 
patient.  And,  meantime,  she  wrote  and  posted  a  letter  to 
her  old  lover.  It  was  not  angry,  or  even  petulant.  In- 
deed, she  made  her  appeal  with  dignity  and  good  choice  of 
words.  Before  all  she  insisted  on  the  welfare  of  the  child, 
and  reminded  him  of  the  cruelty  inflicted  from  birth  on 
any  baby  unlawfully  born  in  England. 

Mr.  Churchouse  had  instructed  her  in  this  matter,  and 
she  asked  Raymond  if  he  could  find  it  in  his  heart  to  allow 
the  child  of  their  common  love  and  worship  to  come  into 
the  world  unrecognised  by  the  world,  deprived  of  recogni- 
tion and  human  rights. 

He  answered  the  letter  vaguely  and  Mr.  Churchouse 
read  a  gleam  of  hope  into  his  words,  but  neither  Sabina 


238  THE  SPINNERS 

nor  her  mother  were  able  to  do  so.  For  he  spoke  only  of 
recognising  his  responsibilities  and  paternal  duty.  He 
bade  her  fear  nothing  for  the  child,  or  herself,  and  assured 
her  that  her  future  would  be  his  care  and  first  obligation 
as  long  as  he  lived. 

In  these  assertions  Mr.  Churchouse  saw  a  wakening 
dawn,  but  Mary  Dinnett  declared  otherwise.  The  man 
was  widening  the  gap ;  his  original  idea,  that  Sabina  should 
live  with  him,  had  clearly  been  abandoned. 

Then  the  contradictions  of  human  nature  appeared,  and 
Mary,  who  had  been  the  first  to  declare  her  deep  indigna- 
tion at  Raymond's  cynical  proposal,  began  to  weaken  and 
even  wonder  if  Sabina  had  done  wisely  not  to  discuss  that 
matter. 

"  Not  that  ever  you  should  have  done  it,"  she  hastened 
to  add ;  "  but  if  you'd  been  a  bit  crafty  and  not  ruled  it 
out  altogether,  you  might  have  built  on  it  and  got  friendly 
again  and  gradually  worked  him  back  to  his  duty.'* 

Then  Mr.  Churchouse  protested,  in  the  name  of  right- 
eousness, while  she  argued  that  God  helps  those  that  help 
themselves,  and  that  wickedness  should  be  opposed  with 
craft.  Sabina  listened  to  them  helplessly  and  her  last 
hope  died  out. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

OF    HUMAN    NATURE 

NICHOLAS  ROBERTS  drove  his  lathes  in  a  lofty  chamber 
separated  by  wooden  walls  from  the  great  central  activi- 
ties of  the  spinning  mill.  Despite  the  flying  sparks  from 
his  emery  wheels,  he  always  kept  a  portrait  of  Sarah 
Northover  before  him;  and  certain  pictures  of  notable 
sportsmen  also  Jiung  with  Sarah  above  the  benches 
whereon  Nicholas  pursued  his  task.  His  work  was  to  put 
a  fresh  face  on  the  wooden  reels  and  rollers  that  formed  a 
part  of  the  machines ;  for  running  hemp  or  flax  will  groove 
the  toughest  wood  in  time,  and  so  ruin  the  control  of  the 
rollers  and  spoil  the  thread. 

The  wood  curled  away  like  paper  before  the  teeth  of  the 
lathes,  and  the  chisels  of  these,  in  their  turn,  had  often  to 
be  set  upon  spinning  stones.  It  was  noisy  work,  and 
Nicholas  now  stopped  his  grindstone  that  he  might  hear 
his  own  voice  and  that  of  Mr.  Best,  who  came  suddenly 
into  the  shop. 

The  foreman  spoke  of  some  new  wood  for  roller  turning. 

"  It  should  be  here  this  week,"  he  said.  "  I  told  them 
we  were  running  short.  You  may  expect  a  good  batch  of 
plane  and  beech  by  Thursday." 

They  discussed  the  work  of  Roberts  and  presently 
turned  to  the  paramount  question  in  every  mind  at  the 
Mill.  All  naturally  desired  to  know  when  Raymond  Iron- 
syde  would  make  his  appearance  and  what  would  happen 
when  he  did  so ;  but  while  some,  having  regard  for  his  con- 
duct, felt  he  would  not  dare  to  appear  again  himself,  others 
believed  that  one  so  insensible  to  honesty  and  decency 

239 


240  THE  SPINNERS 

would  be  indifferent  to  all  opinions  entertained  of  him. 
Such  suspected  that  the  criticisms  of  Bridetown  would 
be  too  unimportant  to  trouble  the  new  master. 

And  it  seemed  that  they  were  right,  for  now  came  Ernest 
Churchouse  seeking  Mr.  Best.  He  looked  into  the  turn- 
ing-shop, saw  John  and  entered. 

"  He's  coming  next  week,  but  perhaps  you  know  it,"  he 
began.  "  And  if  you  haven't  heard,  be  sure  you  will  at 
any  moment." 

"  Then  our  fate  is  in  store,"  declared  Nicholas.  "  Some 
hope  nothing,  but,  seeing  that  with  all  his  faults  he's  a 
sportsman,  I  do  hope  a  bit.  There's  plenty  beside  me  who 
remember  his  words  very  well,  and  they  pointed  to  an  all- 
around  rise  for  men  and  women  alike." 

"  There  was  a  rumour  of  violence  against  him.  You 
don't  apprehend  anything  of  that  sort,  I  hope?  "  asked 
Ernest  of  Best. 

"  A  few  —  more  women  than  men  —  had  a  plot,  I  be- 
lieve, but  I  haven't  heard  any  more  about  it.  Baggs  is  the 
ringleader ;  but  if  there  was  any  talk  of  raising  the  money, 
he'd  find  himself  deserted.  He's  very  bitter  just  now, 
however,  and  as  he's  got  the  pleasant  experience  of  being 
right  for  once,  you  may  be  sure  he's  making  the  most  of 
it." 

"  I'll  see  him,"  said  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  I  always  find 
him  the  most  difficult  character  possible ;  but  he  must  know 
that  to  answer  violence  with  violence  is  vain.  Patience 
may  yet  find  the  solution.  I  have  by  no  means  given  up 
hope  that  right  will  be  done." 

"  Come  and  tell  Levi,  then.  Him  and  me  are  out  for 
the  moment,  because  I  won't  join  him  in  calling  down  evil 
on  Mister  Ironsyde's  head.  But  what's  the  sense  of  los- 
ing your  temper  in  other  people's  quarrels?  Better  keep 
it  for  your  own,  I  say." 

They  found  Levi  Baggs  grumbling  to  himself  over  a 
mass  of  badly  scutched  flax ;  but  when  he  heard  that  Ray- 
mond Ironsyde  was  coming,  he  grew  philosophic. 


OF  HUMAN  NATURE  841 

"  If  we  could  only  learn  from  what  we  work  in,"  he 
said,  "  we'd  have  the  lawless  young  dog  at  our  mercy. 
But,  of  course,  we  shall  not.  Why  don't  the  yarn  teach 
us  a  lesson?  Why  don't  it  show  us  that,  though  the 
thread  is  nought,  and  you  can  break  it,  same  as  Raymond 
Ironsyde  can  break  me  or  you,  yet  when  you  get  to  the 
twist,  and  the  doubling  and  the  trebling,  then  it's  strong 
enough  to  defy  anything.  And  if  we  combined  as  we 
ought,  we  shouldn't  be  waiting  here  to  listen  to  what  he's 
got  to  say ;  we  should  be  waiting  here  to  tell  him  what 
we've  got  to  say.  If  we  had  the  wit  and  understanding  to 
twist  our  threads  into  one  rope  against  the  wickedness  of 
the  world,  then  we  should  have  it  all  our  own  way." 

"  Yes  —  all  your  own  way  to  do  your  own  wickedness," 
declared  Best.  "  We  know  very  well  what  your  idea  of 
fairness  is.  You  look  upon  capital  as  a  natural  enemy, 
and  if  Raymond  Ironsyde  was  an  angel  with  wings,  you'd 
still  feel  to  him  that  he  was  a  foe  and  not  a  friend." 

"  The  tradition  is  in  the  blood,"  declared  Levi.  "  Cap- 
ital is  our  natural  enemy,  as  you  say.  Our  fathers  knew 
it,  and  we  know  it,  and  our  children  will  know  it." 

"  Your  fathers  had  a  great  deal  more  sense  than  you 
have,  Baggs,"  declared  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  And  if  you 
only  remember  the  past  a  little,  you  wouldn't  grumble 
quite  so  loudly  at  the  present.  But  labour  has  a  short 
memory  and  no  gratitude,  unfortunately.  You're  always 
shouting  out  what  must  be  done  for  you ;  you  never  spare 
a  thought  on  what  has  been  done.  You  never  look  back  at 
the  working-class  drudgery  of  bygone  days  —  to  the  '  for- 
ties '  of  last  century,  when  your  fathers  went  to  work  at  the 
curfew  bell  and  earned  eight  een-pence  a  week  as  appren- 
tices, and  two  shillings  a  week  and  a  penny  for  themselves 
after  they  had  learned  their  business.  A  good  spinner  in 
those  days  might  earn  five  shillings  a  week,  Levi  —  and 
that  out  of  doors  in  fair  weather.  In  foul,  he,  or  she, 
wouldn't  do  so  well.  If  you  had  told  your  fathers  sev- 
enty years  ago  that  all  the  spinning  walks  would  be  done 


84*  THE  SPINNERS 

away  with  and  the  population  better  off  notwithstanding, 
they  would  never  have  believed  it." 

"  That's  the  way  to  look  at  the  subject,  Levi,"  declared 
John  Best.  "  Think  what  the  men  of  the  past  would  have 
said  to  our  luck  —  and  our  education." 

"  Machinery  brought  the  spinning  indoors,"  continued 
Ernest.  "  I  can  remember  forty  spinning  walks  in  St. 
Michael's  Lane  alone.  And  with  small  wages  and  long 
hours,  remember  the  price  of  things,  Levi;  remember  the 
fearful  price  of  bare  necessities.  Clothes  were  so  dear 
that  many  a  labourer  went  to  church  in  his  smock  frock 
all  his  life.  Many  never  donned  broadcloth  from  their 
cradle  to  their  grave.  And  tea  five  shillings  a  pound, 
Levi  Baggs !  They  used  to  buy  it  by  the  ounce  and  brew 
it  over  and  over  again.  Think  of  the  little  children,  too, 
and  how  they  were  made  to  work.  Think  of  them  and 
feel  your  heart  ache." 

"  My  heart  aches  for  myself,"  answered  the  hackler, 
"  because  I  very  well  remember  what  my  own  childhood 
was.  And  I'm  not  saying  the  times  don't  better.  I'm 
saying  we  must  keep  at  'em,  or  they'll  soon  slip  back  again 
into  the  old,  bad  ways.  Capital's  always  pulling  against 
labour  and  would  get  back  its  evil  mastery  to-morrow  if  it 
could.  So  we  need  to  keep  awake,  to  see  we  don't  lose  what 
we've  won,  but  add  to  it.  Now  here's  a  man  that's  a  serv- 
ant by  instinct,  and  it's  in  his  blood  to  knuckle  under." 

He  pointed  to  Best. 

"  I'm  for  no  man  more  than  another,"  answered  John. 
"  I  stand  not  for  man  or  woman  in  particular.  I'm  for 
the  Mill  first  and  last  and  always.  I  think  of  what  is  best 
for  the  Mill  and  put  it  above  the  welfare  of  the  individual, 
whatever  he  represents  —  capital  or  labour." 

"  That's  where  you're  wrong.  The  people  are  the  Mill 
and  only  the  people,"  declared  Baggs.  "  The  rest  is  iron 
and  steel  and  flax  and  hemp  and  steam  —  dead  things 
all.  We  are  the  Mill,  not  the  stuff  in  it,  or  the  man  that 
happens  to  be  the  new  master." 


OF  HUMAN  NATURE 

"  Mr.  Raymond  has  expressed  admirable  sentiments  in 
my  hearing,"  declared  Ernest  Churchouse.  "  For  so 
young  a  man,  he  has  a  considerable  grasp  of  the  situation 
and  progressive  ideas.  You  might  be  in  worse  hands." 

"  Might  we?  How  worse?  What  can  be  worse  than  a 
man  that  lies  to  women  and  seduces  an  innocent  girl  under 
promise  of  marriage?  What  can  be  worse  than  a  coward 
and  traitor,  who  does  a  thing  like  that,  and  when  he  finds 
he's  strong  enough  to  escape  the  consequences,  escapes 
them?" 

"  Heaven  knows  I'm  not  condoning  his  conduct,  Levi. 
He  has  behaved  as  badly  as  a  young  man  could,  and  not  a 
word  of  extenuation  will  you  hear  from  me.  I'm  not 
speaking  of  him  as  a  part  of  the  social  order ;  I'm  speaking 
of  him  as  master  of  the  Mill.  As  master  here  he  may  be 
a  successful  man  and  you'll  do  well  to  bear  in  mind  that 
he  must  be  judged  by  results.  Morally,  he's  a  failure, 
and  you  are  right  to  condemn  him;  but  don't  let  that 
make  you  an  enemy  to  him  as  owner  of  the  works.  Be 
just,  and  don't  be  prejudiced  against  him  in  one  capacity 
because  he's  failed  in  another." 

"  A  bad  man  is  a  bad  man,"  answered  Baggs  stoutly, 
"  and  a  blackguard's  a  blackguard.  And  if  you  are  equal 
to  doing  one  dirty  trick,  your  fellow  man  has  a  right  to 
distrust  you  all  through.  You've  got  to  look  at  a  ques- 
tion through  your  own  spectacles,  and  I  won't  hear  no 
nonsense  about  the  welfare  of  the  Mill,  because  the  welfare 
of  the  Mill  means  to  me  —  Levi  Baggs  —  my  welfare  — 
and,  no  doubt,  it  means  to  that  godless  rip,  his  welfare. 
You  mark  me  —  a  man  that  can  ruin  one  girl  won't  be 
very  tender  about  fifty  girls  and  women.  And  if  you  think 
Raymond  Ironsyde  will  take  any  steps  to  better  the  work- 
ers at  the  expense  of  the  master,  you're  wrong,  and  don't 
know  nothing  about  human  nature." 

John  Best  looked  at  Mr.  Churchouse  doubtfully. 

"  There's  sense  in  that,  I'm  fearing,"  he  said. 

"  When  you  say  '  human  nature,'  Levi,  you  sum  the 


THE  SPINNERS 

whole  situation,"  answered  Ernest  mildly.  "  Because 
human  nature  is  like  the  sea  —  you  never  know  when  you 
put  a  net  into  it  what  you'll  drag  up  to  the  light  of  day. 
Human  nature  is  never  exhausted,  and  it  abounds  in  con- 
tradictions. You  cannot  make  hard  and  fast  laws  for  it, 
and  you  cannot,  if  you  are  philosophically  inclined,  pre- 
sume to  argue  about  it  as  though  it  were  a  consistent  and 
unchanging  factor.  History  is  full  of  examples  of  men 
defeating  their  own  characters,  of  falling  away  from  their 
own  ideals,  yet  struggling  back  to  them.  Careers  have 
dawned  in  beauty  and  promise  and  set  in  blood  and  failure ; 
and,  again,  you  find  people  who  make  a  bad  start,  yet 
manage  to  retrieve  the  situation.  In  a  word,  you  cannot 
argue  from  the  past  to  the  future,  where  human  nature  is 
concerned.  It  is  a  series  of  surprises,  some  gratifying  and 
some  very  much  the  reverse.  There's  always  room  for 
hope  with  the  worst  and  fear  with  the  best  of  us." 

"  It's  easy  for  you  to  talk,"  growled  Mr.  Baggs.  "  But 
talk  don't  take  the  place  of  facts.  I  say  a  blackguard's 
always  a  blackguard  and  defy  any  man  to  disprove  it." 

"  If  you  want  facts,  you  can  have  them,"  replied  Ernest. 
"  My  researches  into  history  have  made  me  sanguine  in 
this  respect.  Many  have  been  vicious  in  youth  and  proved 
stout  enemies  to  vice  at  a  later  time.  Themistocles  did 
much  evil.  His  father  disowned  him  — <  and  he  drove  his 
mother  to  take  her  own  life  for  grief  at  his  sins.  Yet, 
presently,  the  ugly  bud  put  forth  a  noble  flower.  Nich- 
olas West  was  utterly  wicked  in  his  youth  and  committed 
such  crimes  that  he  was  driven  from  college  after  burning 
his  master's  dwelling-house.  Yet  light  dawned  for  this 
young  man  and  he  ended  his  days  as  Bishop  of  Ely.  Titus 
Vespasianus  emulated  Nero  in  his  early  rascalities ;  but 
having  donned  the  imperial  purple,  he  cast  away  his  evil 
companions  and  was  accounted  good  as  well  as  great. 
Henry  V.  of  England  was  another  such  man,  who  reformed 
himself  to  admiration.  Augustine  began  badly,  and  de- 
clared as  a  jest  that  he  would  rather  have  his  lust  satis- 


OF  HUMAN  NATURE 

fied  than  extinguished.  Yet  this  man  ended  as  a  Saint  of 
Christ.  I  could  give  you  many  other  examples,  Levi." 

"  Then  we'll  hope  for  the  best,"  said  John. 

But  Mr.  Baggs  only  sneered. 

"  We  hear  of  the  converted  sinners,"  he  said ;  "  but  we 
don't  hear  of  the  victims  that  suffered  their  wickedness 
before  they  turned  into  saints.  Let  Raymond  Ironsyde  be 
twenty  saints  rolled  into  one,  that  won't  make  Sabina 
Dinnett  an  honest  woman,  or  her  child  a  lawful  child." 

"  Never  jump  to  conclusions,"  advised  Ernest.  "  Even 
that  may  come  right.  Nothing  is  impossible." 

"  That's  a  great  thought  —  that  nothing's  impossible." 
declared  Mr.  Best. 

They  argued,  each  according  to  his  character  and  bent 
of  mind,  and,  while  the  meliorists  cheered  each  other,  Mr. 
Baggs  laughed  at  them  and  held  their  aspirations  vain. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE    MASTER    OF    THE    MILL 

RAYMOND  IRONSYDE  came  to  Bridetown.  He  rode  in  from 
Bridport,  and  met  John  Best  by  appointment  early  on  a 
March  morning. 

With  the  words  of  Ernest  Churchouse  still  in  his  ears, 
the  foreman  felt  profound  interest  to  learn  what  might  be 
learned  considering  the  changes  in  his  master's  character. 

He  found  a  new  Raymond,  yet  as  the  older  writing  of  a 
parchment  palimpsest  will  sometimes  make  itself  apparent 
behind  the  new,  glimpses  of  his  earlier  self  did  not  lack. 
The  things  many  remembered  and  hoped  that  Ironsyde 
would  remember  were  not  forgotten  by  him.  But  instead 
of  the  old,  vague  generalities  and  misty  assurance  of 
goodwill,  he  now  declared  definite  plans  based  on  knowl- 
edge. He  came  armed  with  figures  and  facts,  and  his 
method  of  expression  had  changed  from  ideas  to  intentions. 
His  very  manner  chimed  with  his  new  power.  He  was 
decisive,  and  quite  devoid  of  sentimentality.  He  feared 
none,  but  his  attitude  to  all  had  changed. 

They  spoke  in  Mr.  Best's  office  and  he  marked  how  the 
works  came  first  in  Raymond's  regard. 

"  I've  been  putting  in  a  lot  of  time  on  the  machine  ques- 
tion," he  said.  "  As  you  know,  that  always  interested  me 
most  before  I  thought  I  should  have  much  say  in  the 
matter.  Well,  there's  no  manner  of  doubt  we're  badly 
behind  the  times.  You  can't  deny  it,  John.  You  know 
better  than  anybody  what  we  want,  and  it  must  be  your 
work  to  go  on  with  what  you  began  to  do  for  my  brother. 
I  don't  want  to  rush  at  changes  and  then  find  I've  wasted 
capital  without  fair  results ;  but  it's  clear  to  me  that  a 
good  many  of  our  earlier  operations  are  not  done  as  well 
and  swiftly  as  they  might  be." 

246 


THE  MASTER  OF  THE  MILL 

"That's  true.  The  Carder  is  out  of  date  and  the 
Spreader  certainly  is." 

"  The  thing  is  to  get  the  best  substitutes  in  the  market. 
You'll  have  to  go  round  again  in  a  larger  spirit.  I'm  not 
frightened  of  risks.  Is  there  anybody  here  who  can  take 
your  place  for  a  month  or  six  weeks  ?  " 

Mr.  Best  shook  his  head. 

"  There  certainly  is  not,"  he  said. 

"  Then  we  must  look  round  Bridport  for  a  man.  I'm 
prepared  to  put  money  into  the  changes,  provided  I  have 
you  behind  me.  I  can  trust  you  absolutely  to  know;  but 
I  advocate  a  more  sporting  policy  than  my  poor  brother 
did.  After  that  we  come  to  the  people.  I've  got  my  busi- 
ness at  my  fingers'  ends  now  and  I  found  I  was  better  at 
figures  than  I  thought.  There  must  be  some  changes. 
There  are  two  problems :  time  and  money.  Either  one  or 
other ;  or  probably  both  must  be  bettered  —  that's  what 
I  am  faced  with." 

"  It  wants  careful  thinking  out,  sir." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  great  deal  more  to  me  than  my  fore- 
man, and  you  know  it.  I  look  to  you  and  only  you  to 
help  me  run  the  show  at  Bridetown,  henceforth.  And, 
before  everything,  I  want  my  people  to  be  keen  and  feel 
my  good  is  their  good  and  their  good  is  mine.  Anyway, 
I  have  based  changes  on  a  fair  calculation  of  future  profits, 
plus  necessary  losses  and  need  to  make  up  wear  and  tear." 

"  And  remember,  raw  products  tend  to  rise  in  price  all 
the  time." 

"  As  to  that,  I'm  none  too  sure  we've  been  buying  in 
the  best  market.  When  I  know  more  about  it,  I  may 
travel  a  bit  myself.  Meantime,  I'm  changing  two  of  our 
travellers." 

Mr.  Best  nodded. 

"  That's  to  the  good,"  he  said.  "  I  know  which.  Poor 
Mr.  Daniel  would  keep  them,  because  his  father  had  told 
him  they  were  all  they  ought  to  be.  But  least  said,  soon- 
est mended." 


248  THE  SPINNERS 

"  As  to  the  staff,  it's  summed  up  in  a  word.  I  mean  for 
them  a  little  less  time  and  a  little  more  money.  Some 
would  like  longer  hours  and  much  higher  wages ;  some 
would  be  content  with  a  little  more  money ;  some  only 
talked  about  shorter  time.  I  heard  them  all  air  their 
opinions  in  the  past.  But  I've  concluded  for  somewhat 
shorter  hours  and  somewhat  better  money.  You  must  rub 
it  into  them  that  new  machinery  will  indirectly  help  them, 
too,  and  make  the  work  lighter  and  the  results  better." 

"  That's  undoubtedly  true,  but  it's  no  good  saying  so. 
You'll  never  make  them  feel  that  new  machinery  helps 
them.  But  they'll  be  very  glad  of  a  little  more  money." 

"  We  must  enlarge  their  minds  and  make  them  under- 
stand that  the  better  the  machinery,  the  better  their  pros- 
pects. As  I  go  up  —  and  I  mean  to  —  so  they  shall  go 
up.  But  our  hope  of  success  lies  in  the  mechanical  means 
we  employ.  They  must  grasp  that  intelligently,  and  be 
patient,  and  not  expect  me  to  put  them  before  the  Mill. 
If  the  works  succeed,  then  they  succeed  and  I  succeed. 
If  the  works  hang  fire  and  get  behindhand,  then  they  will 
suffer.  We're  all  the  servants  of  the  machinery.  I  want 
them  to  grasp  that." 

"  It's  difficult  for  them ;  but  no  doubt  they'll  get  to  see 
it,"  answered  John. 

"  They  must.  That's  the  way  to  success  in  my  opinion. 
It's  a  very  interesting  subject  —  the  most  interesting  to 
me  —  always  was.  The  machinery,  I  mean.  I  may  go  to 
America,  presently.  Of  course,  they  can  give  us  a  start 
and  a  beating  at  machinery  there." 

"  We  must  remember  the  driving  power,"  said  Best. 

"  The  driving  power  can  be  raised,  like  everything  else. 
If  we  haven't  got  enough  power,  we  must  increase  it.  I've 
thought  of  that,  too,  as  a  matter  of  fact." 

"  You  can't  increase  what  the  river  will  do ;  but,  of 
course,  you  can  get  a  stronger  steam  engine." 

"  Not  so  sure  about  the  river.  There's  a  new  thing  — 
American,  of  course  —  called  a  turbine.  But  no  hurry 


THE  MASTER  OF  THE  MILL     249 

for  that.  We've  got  all  the  power  we  want  for  the  min- 
ute. That's  one  virtue  of  some  of  the  new  machinery:  it 
doesn't  demand  so  much  power  in  some  cases." 

But  Best  was  very  sceptical  on  this  point.  They  dis- 
cussed other  matters  and  Raymond  detailed  his  ideas  as  to 
the  alteration  of  hours  and  wages.  For  the  most  part  his 
foreman  had  no  objections  to  offer,  and  when  he  did  ques- 
tion the  figures,  he  was  overruled.  But  he  felt  constrained 
to  praise. 

"  It's  wonderful  how  you've  gone  into  it,"  he  said.  "  I 
never  should  have  thought  you'd  have  had  such  a  head  for 
detail,  Mister  Raymond." 

"  No  more  should  I,  John.  I  surprised  myself.  But 
when  you  are  working  for  another  person  —  that's  one 
thing;  when  you  are  working  for  yourself  —  that's  an- 
other thing.  Not  much  virtue  in  what  I've  done,  as  it  is 
for  myself  in  the  long  run.  When  you  tell  them,  explain 
that  I'm  not  a  philanthropist  —  only  a  man  of  business 
in  future.  But  before  all  things  fair  and  straight.  I 
mean  to  be  fair  to  them  and  to  the  machinery,  too.  And 
to  the  machinery  I  look  to  make  all  our  fortunes.  I 
should  have  done  a  little  more  to  start  with  —  for  the 
people  I  mean;  but  the  death  duties  are  the  devil.  In 
fact,  I  start  crippled  by  them.  Tell  them  that  and  make 
them  understand  what  they  mean  on  an  enterprise  of  this 
sort." 

They  went  through  the  works  together  presently  and  it 
was  clear  that  the  new  owner  fixed  a  gulf  between  the  past 
and  the  future.  His  old  easy  manner  had  vanished  — 
and,  while  friendly  enough,  he  made  it  quite  clear  that  a 
vast  alteration  had  come  into  his  mind  and  manners. 
It  seemed  incredible  that  six  months  before  Raymond  was 
chaffing  the  girls  and  bringing  them  fruit.  He  called  them 
by  their  names  as  of  yore ;  but  they  knew  in  a  moment  he 
had  moved  with  his  fortunes  and  their  own  manner  in- 
stinctively altered. 

He  was  kind  and  pleasant,  but  far  more  interested  in 


250  THE  SPINNERS 

their  work  than  them ;  and  they  drew  conclusions  from  the 
fact.  They  judged  his  attitude  with  gloom  and  were 
the  more  agreeably  surprised  when  they  learned  what  ad- 
vantages had  been  planned  for  them.  Levi  Baggs  and 
Benny  Cogle,  the  engineman,  grumbled  that  more  was  not 
done;  but  the  women,  who  judged  Raymond  from  his 
treatment  of  Sabina  and  hoped  nothing  from  his  old  prom- 
ises, were  gratified  and  astonished  at  what  they  heard. 
An  improved  sentiment  towards  the  new  master  was  mani- 
fest. The  instinct  to  judge  people  at  your  own  tribunal 
awoke,  and  while  Sally  Groves  and  old  Mrs.  Chick  held  out 
for  morals,  the  other  women  did  not.  Already  they 
had  realised  that  the  idle  youth  they  could  answer  was 
gone.  And  with  him  had  gone  the  young  man  who  amused 
himself  with  a  spinner.  Of  course,  he  could  not  be  ex- 
pected to  marry  Sabina.  Such  things  did  not  happen  out 
of  story  books ;  and  if  you  tried  to  be  too  clever  for  your 
situation,  this  was  the  sort  of  thing  that  befell  you. 

So  argued  Nancy  Buckler  and  Mercy  Gale;  nor  did 
Sarah  Northover  much  differ  from  them.  None  had  been 
fiercer  for  Sabina  than  Nancy,  yet  her  opinion,  before  the 
spectacle  of  Raymond  himself  and  after  she  heard  his 
intentions,  was  modified.  To  see  him  so  alert,  so  aloof 
from  the  girls,  translated  to  a  higher  interest,  had  altered 
Nancy.  Despite  her  asperity  and  apparent  independence 
of  thought,  her  mind  was  servile,  as  the  ignorant  mind  is 
bound  to  be.  She  paid  the  unconscious  deference  of  weak- 
ness to  power. 

Raymond  lunched  at  North  Hill  House  —  now  his  prop- 
erty. He  had  not  seen  Waldron  since  the  great  change 
in  his  fortunes  and  Arthur,  with  the  rest,  was  quick  to 
perceive  the  difference.  They  met  in  friendship  and  Es- 
telle  kissed  Raymond  as  she  was  accustomed  to  do ;  but 
the  alteration  in  him,  while  missed  by  her,  was  soon  appar- 
ent to  her  father.  It  took  the  shape  of  a  more  direct  and 
definite  method  of  thinking.  Raymond  no  longer  uttered 
his  opinions  inconsiderately,  as  though  confessing  they 


THE  MASTER  OF  THE  MILL     251 

were  worthless  even  while  he  spoke  them.  He  weighed  his 
words,  jested  far  less  often,  and  did  no'  turn  serious  sub- 
jects into  laughter. 

Waldron  suggested  certain  things  to  his  new  landlord 
that  he  desired  should  be  done  ;  but  he  was  amused  in  secret 
that  some  work  Raymond  had  blamed  Daniel  for  not 
doing,  he  now  refused  to  do  himself. 

"  I've  no  objection,  old  chap  —  none  at  all.  The  other 
points  you  raise  I  shall  carry  out  at  my  own  expense ; 
but  the  French  window  in  the  drawing-room,  while  an  ex- 
cellent addition  to  the  room,  is  not  a  necessity.  So  you 
must  do  that  yourself."  Thus  he  spoke  and  Arthur 
agreed. 

Estelle  only  found  him  unchanged.  Before  her  he  was 
always  jovial  and  happy.  He  liked  to  hear  her  talk  and 
listen  to  her  budding  theories  of  life  and  pretty  dreams 
of  what  the  world  ought  to  be,  if  people  would  only  take  a 
little  more  trouble  for  other  people.  But  Estelle  was 
painfully  direct.  She  thought  for  herself  and  had  not  yet 
learned  to  hide  her  ideas,  modify  their  shapes,  or  muffle 
their  outlines  when  presenting  them  to  another  person. 
Mr.  Chur chouse  and  her  father  were  responsible  for  this. 
They  encouraged  her  directness  and,  while  knowing  that 
she  outraged  opinion  sometimes,  could  not  bring  them- 
selves to  warn  her,  or  stain  the  frankness  of  her  views, 
with  the  caution  that  good  manners  require  thought 
should  not  go  nude. 

Now  the  peril  of  Estelle's  principles  appeared  when 
lunch  was  finished  and  the  servants  had  withdrawn. 

"  I  didn't  speak  before  Lucy  and  Agnes,"  she  said, 
"  because  they  might  talk  about  it  afterwards." 

"  Bless  % me!  How  cunning  she's  getting!"  laughed 
Raymond.  But  he  did  not  laugh  long.  Estelle  handed 
him  his  coffee  and  lit  a  match  for  his  cigar ;  while  Arthur, 
guessing  what  was  coming,  resigned  himself  helplessly  to 
the  storm. 

"  Sabina  is  fearfully  unhappy,  Ray.     She  loves  you  so 


THE  SPINNERS 

much,  and  I  hope  you  will  change  your  mind  and  marry 
her  after  all,  because  if  you  do,  she'll  love  her  baby,  too, 
and  look  forward  to  it  very  much.  But  if  you  don't,  she'll 
hate  her  baby.  And  it  would  be  a  dreadful  thing  for  the 
poor  little  baby  to  come  into  the  world  hated." 

To  Waldron's  intense  relief  Raymond  showed  no  annoy- 
ance whatever.  He  was  gentle  and  smiled  at  Estelle. 

"  So  it  would,  Chicky  —  it  would  be  a  dreadful  thing 
for  a  baby  to  come  into  the  world  hated.  But  don't  you 
worry.  Nobody's  going  to  hate  it." 

"  I'll  tell  Sabina  that.  Sabina's  sure  to  have  a  nice 
baby,  because  she's  so  nice  herself." 

.  "  Sure  to.     And  I  shall  be  a  very  good  friend  to  the 
baby  without  marrying  Sabina." 

"  If  she  knows  that,  it  ought  to  comfort  her,"  declared 
Estelle.  "  And  I  shall  be  a  great  friend  to  it,  too." 

Her  father  bade  the  child  be  off  on  an  errand  presently 
and  expressed  his  regrets  to  the  guest  when  she  was  gone. 

"  Awfully  sorry,  old  chap,  but  she's  so  unearthly  and 
simple ;  and  though  I've  often  told  myself  to  preach  to  her, 
I  never  can  quite  do  it." 

"  Never  do.  She'll  learn  to  hide  her  thoughts  soon 
enough.  Nothing  she  can  say  would  annoy  me.  For  that 
matter  she's  only  saying  what  a  great  many  other  people 
are  thinking  and  haven't  the  pluck  to  say.  The  truth  is 
this,  Arthur;  when  I  was  a  poor  man  I  was  a  weak  man, 
and  I  should  have  married  Sabina  and  we  should  both 
have  had  a  hell  of  a  life,  no  doubt.  Now  the  death  of 
Daniel  has  made  me  a  strong  man,  and  I'm  not  doing 
wrong  as  the  result ;  I'm  doing  right.  I  can  afford  to  do 
right  and  not  mind  the  consequences.  And  the  truth 
about  life  is  that  half  the  people  who  do  wrong,  only  do  it 
because  they  can't  afford  to  do  right." 

"  That's  a  comforting  doctrine  —  for  the  poor." 

"  It's  like  this.  Sabina  is  a  very  dear  girl,  and  I  loved 
her  tremendously,  and  if  she'd  gone  on  being  the  same 


THE  MASTER  OF  THE  MILL     253 

afterwards,  I  should  have  married  her.  But  she  changed, 
and  I  saw  that  we  could  never  be  really  happy  together 
as  man  and  wife.  There  are  things  in  her  that  would  have 
ruined  my  temper,  and  there  are  things  in  me  she  would 
have  got  to  hate  more  and  more.  As  a  matter  of  brutal 
fact,  Arthur,  she  got  to  dislike  me  long  before  things  came 
to  a  climax.  She  had  to  hide  it,  because,  from  her  stand- 
point and  her  silly  mother's,  marriage  is  the  only  sort  of 
salvation.  Whereas  for  us  it  would  have  been  damnation. 
It's  very  simple;  she's  got  to  think  as  I  think  and  then 
she'll  be  all  right." 

"  You  can't  make  people  think  your  way,  if  they  prefer 
to  think  their  own." 

"  It's  merely  the  line  of  least  resistance  and  what  will 
pay  her  best.  I  want  you  to  grasp  the  fact  that  she  had 
ceased  to  like  me  before  there  was  any  reason  why  she 
should  cease  to  like  me.  I'll  swear  she  had.  My  first 
thought  and  intention,  when  I  heard  what  had  happened, 
was  to  marry  her  right  away.  And  what  changed  my 
feeling  about  it,  and  showed  me  devilish  clear  it  would  be 
a  mistake,  was  Sabina  herself.  We  needn't  go  over  that. 
But  I'm  not  going  to  marry  her  now  under  any  circum- 
stances whatever,  while  recognising  very  clearly  my  duty 
to  her  and  the  child.  And  though  you  may  say  it's  hum- 
bug, I'm  thinking  quite  as  much  for  her  as  myself  when 
I  say  this." 

"  I  don't  presume  to  judge.  You're  not  a  humbug  — - 
no  good  sportsman  is  in  my  experience.  If  you  do  every- 
thing right  for  the  child,  I  suppose  the  world  has  no  rea- 
son to  criticise." 

"  As  long  as  I'm  right  with  myself,  I  don't  care  one 
button  what  the  world  says,  Arthur.  There's  nothing 
quicker  opens  your  eyes,  or  helps  you  to  take  larger  views, 
than  independence." 

"  I  see  that." 

"  All  the  same,  it's  a  steadying  thing  if  you're  honest 


THE  SPINNERS 

and  have  got  brains  in  your  head.  People  thought  I  was 
a  shallow,  easy,  good-natured  and  good-for-nothing  fool 
six  months  ago.  Well,  they  thought  wrong.  But  don't 
think  I'm  pleased  with  myself,  or  any  nonsense  of  that 
sort.  Only  a  fool  is  pleased  with  himself.  I've  wasted 
my  life  till  now,  because  I  had  no  ambition.  Now  I'm  be- 
ginning it  and  trying  to  get  things  into  their  proper  per- 
spective. When  I  had  no  responsibilities,  I  was  irre- 
sponsible. Now  they've  come,  I'm  stringing  myself  up  to 
meet  them." 

"  Life's  given  you  your  chance." 

"  Exactly ;  and  I  hope  to  show  I  can  take  it.  But  I'm 
not  going  to  start  by  making  an  ass  of  myself  to  please  a 
few  old  women." 

"Where  shall  you  live?" 

"  Nowhere  in  particular  for  the  minute.  I  shall  roam 
and  see  all  that's  being  done  in  my  business  and  take  John 
Best  with  me  for  a  while.  Then  it  depends.  Perhaps,  if 
things  go  as  I  expect  about  machinery,  I  shall  ask  you 
for  a  corner  again  in  the  autumn." 

Mr.  Waldron  nodded ;  but  he  was  not  finding  himself  in 
complete  agreement  with  Raymond. 

"  Always  welcome,"  he  said. 

"Perhaps  you'd  rather  not?  Well  —  see  how  things 
go.  Estelle  may  bar  me.  I'm  at  Bridport  to-night  and 
return  to  London  to-morrow.  But  I  shall  be  back  again 
in  a  week." 

"  Shall  you  play  any  cricket  this  summer?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  if  I  have  time ;  but  it's  very  improb- 
able. I'm  not  going  to  chuck  sport  though.  Next  year 
I  may  have  more  leisure." 

"  You're  at  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  I  hear  —  haven't  for- 
given Dick  Gurd  he  tells  me." 

"  Did  we  quarrel  ?  I  forget.  Seems  funny  to  think  I 
had  enough  time  on  my  hands  to  wrangle  with  an  inn- 
keeper. But  I  like  Missis  Northover's.  It's  quiet." 

"  Shall  I  come  in  and  dine  this  evening?  " 


THE  MASTER  OF  THE  MILL     255 

"  Wait  till  I'm  back  again.  I've  got  to  talk  to  my 
Aunt  Jenny  to-night.  She's  one  of  the  old  brigade,  but 
I'm  hoping  to  make  her  see  sense." 

"  When  sense  clashes  with  religion,  old  man,  nobody  sees 
sense.  I'm  afraid  your  opinions  won't  entirely  commend 
themselves  to  Miss  Ironsyde." 

"  Probably  not.  I  quite  realise  that  I  shall  have  to  ex- 
ercise the  virtue  of  patience  at  Bridport  and  Bridetown 
for  a  year  or  two.  But  while  I've  got  you  for  a  friend, 
Arthur,  I'm  not  going  to  bother." 

Waldron  marked  the  imperious  changes  and  felt  some- 
what bewildered.  Raymond  left  him  not  a  little  to  think 
about,  and  when  the  younger  had  ridden  off,  Arthur 
strolled  afield  with  his  thoughts  and  strove  to  bring  order 
into  them.  He  felt  in  a  vague  sort  of  way  that  he  had 
been  talking  to  a  stranger,  and  his  hope,  if  he  experienced 
a  hope,  was  that  the  new  master  of  the  Mill  might  not  take 
himself  too  seriously.  "  People  who  do  that  are  invaria- 
bly one-sided,"  thought  Waldron. 

Upon  Ironsyde's  attitude  and  intentions  with  regard  to 
Sabina,  he  also  reflected  uneasily.  What  Raymond  had 
declared  sounded  all  right,  yet  Arthur  could  not  break 
with  old  rooted  opinions  and  the  general  view  of  conduct 
embodied  in  his  favourite  word.  Was  it  "  sporting "  ? 
And  more  important  still,  was  it  true?  Had  Ironsyde 
arrived  at  his  determination  from  honest  conviction,  or 
thanks  to  the  force  of  changed  circumstances?  Mr. 
Waldron  gave  his  friend  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 

"  One  must  remember  that  he  is  a  good  sportsman,"  he 
reflected,  "  and  he  can't  have  enough  brains  to  make  him  a 
bad  sportsman." 

For  the  thinker  had  found  within  his  experience,  that 
those  who  despised  sport,  too  often  despised  also  the  sim- 
ple ethics  that  he  associated  with  sportsmanship.  In  fact, 
Arthur,  after  one  or  two  painful  experiences,  had  ex- 
plicitly declared  that  big  brains  often  went  hand  in  hand 
with  a  doubtful  sense  of  honour.  He  had  also,  of  course, 


256  THE  SPINNERS 

known  numerous  examples  of  another  sort  of  dangerous 
people  who  assumed  the  name  and  distinction  of  "  sports- 
man "  as  a  garment  to  hide  their  true  activities  and  unwor- 
thy selves. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

CLASH    OF    OPINIONS 

MR.  JOB  LEGG,  with  a  persistence  inspired  by  private  pur- 
pose, continued  to  impress  upon  Nelly  Northover  the 
radical  truth  that  in  this  world  you  cannot  have  anything 
for  nothing.  He  varied  the  precept  sometimes,  and  re- 
minded her  that  we  must  not  hope  to  have  our  cake  and  eat 
it  too;  and  closer  relations  with  Richard  Gurd  served  to 
impress  upon  Mrs.  Northover  the  value  of  these  verities. 
Nor  did  she  resent  them  from  Mr.  Legg.  He  had  pre- 
served an  attitude  of  manly  resignation  under  his  supreme 
disappointment.  He  was  patient,  uncomplaining  and  self- 
controlled.  He  did  not  immediately  give  notice  of  de- 
parture, but,  for  the  present,  continued  to  do  his  duty 
with  customary  thoroughness.  He  showed  himself  a  most 
tactful  man.  New  virtues  were  manifested  in  the  light 
of  the  misfortune  that  had  overtaken  him.  Affliction  and 
reverse  seemed  to  make  him  shine  the  brighter.  Nelly 
could  hardly  understand  it.  Had  she  not  regarded  his 
character  as  one  of  obvious  simplicity  and  incapable  of 
guile,  she  might  have  felt  suspicious  of  any  male  who  be- 
haved with  such  exemplary  distinction  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

It  was,  of  course,  clear  that  the  mistress  of  *  The  Seven 
Stars  '  could  not  become  Mr.  Gurd's  partner  and  continue 
to  reign  over  her  own  constellation  as  of  old.  Yet  Nelly 
did  not  readily  accept  a  fact  so  obvious,  even  under  Mr. 
Legg's  reiterated  admonitions.  She  felt  wayward  —  al- 
most wilful  about  it;  and  there  came  an  evening  when 
Richard  dropped  in  for  his  usual  half  hour  of  courting  to 

257 


258      .  THE  SPINNERS 

find  her  in  such  a  frame  of  mind.  Humour  on  his  part 
had  saved  the  situation;  but  he  lacked  humour,  and  while 
Nelly,  even  as  she  spoke,  knew  she  was  talking  nonsense 
and  only  waited  his  reminder  of  the  inevitable  in  a  friendly 
spirit,  yet,  when  the  reminder  came,  it  was  couched  in 
words  so  forcible  and  so  direct,  that  for  a  parlous  mo- 
ment her  own  sense  of  humour  broke  down. 

The  initial  error  was  Mr.  Gurd's.  The  elasticity  of 
youth,  both  mental  and  physical,  had  departed  from  him, 
and  he  took  her  remarks,  uttered  more  in  mischief  than 
in  earnest,  with  too  much  gravity,  not  perceiving  that 
Nelly  herself  was  in  a  woman's  mood  and  merely  uttering 
absurdities  that  he  might  contradict  her.  She  was  ready 
enough  to  climb  down  from  her  impossible  attitude;  but 
Richard  abruptly  threw  her  down;  which  unchivalrous 
action  wounded  Mrs.  Northover  to  the  quick  and  begat 
in  her  an  obstinate  and  rebellious  determination  to  climb 
up  again. 

"  I'm  looking  on  ahead,"  she  began,  while  they  sat  in 
her  parlour  together.  "  This  is  a  great  upheaval,  Rich- 
ard, and  I'm  just  beginning  to  feel  how  great.  I'm  won- 
dering all  manner  of  things.  Will  you  be  so  happy  and 
comfortable  along  with  me,  at  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  as  you 
are  at  '  The  Tiger '  ?  You  must  put  that  to  yourself, 
you  know." 

It  was  so  absurd  an  assumption,  that  she  expected  his 
laughter;  and  if  he  had  laughed  and  answered  with  in- 
spiration, no  harm  could  have  come  of  it.  But  Richard 
felt  annoyed  rather  than  amused.  The  suggestion  seemed 
to  show  that  Mrs.  Northover  was  a  fool  —  the  last  thing 
he  bargained  for.  He  exhibited  contempt.  Indeed,  he 
snorted  in  a  manner  almost  insulting. 

"  Woman  comes  to  man,  I  believe,  not  man  to  woman," 
he  said. 

"  That  is  so,"  she  admitted  with  a  touch  of  colour  in 
her  cheeks  at  his  attitude,  "  but  you  must  think  all  round 
it  —  which  you  haven't  done  yet,  seemingly." 


CLASH  OF  OPINIONS  259 

Then  Richard  laughed  —  too  late ;  for  a  laugh  may  lose 
all  its  value  if  the  right  moment  be  missed. 

"  Where's  the  fun?  "  she  asked.  "  I  thought,  of  course, 
that  you'd  be  business-like  as  well  as  lover-like  and  would 
see  '  The  Seven  Stars  '  had  got  more  to  it  than  *  The 
Tiger.'  " 

Even  now  the  situation  might  have  been  saved.  The 
very  immensity  of  her  claim  rendered  it  ridiculous;  but 
Richard  was  too  astonished  to  guess  an  utterance  so 
hyperbolic  had  been  made  to  offer  him  an  easy  victory. 

"  You  thought  that,  Nelly?  '  The  Seven  Stars  '  more 
to  it  than  <  The  Tiger'?" 

"Surely!" 

"  Because  you  get  a  few  tea-parties  and  old  women  at 
nine-pence  a  head  on  your  little  bit  of  grass  ?  " 

A  counter  so  terrific  destroyed  the  last  glimmering 
hope  of  a  peaceful  situation,  and  Mrs.  Northover  per- 
ceived this  first. 

"It's  war  then?"  she  said.  "So  perhaps  you'll  tell 
me  what  you  mean  by  my  little  bit  of  grass.  Not  the 
finest  pleasure  gardens  in  Bridport,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Be  damned  if  this  ain't  the  funniest  thing  I've  ever 
heard,"  he  answered. 

"  You  never  was  one  to  see  a  joke,  we  all  know;  and  if 
that's  the  funniest  thing  you  ever  heard,  you  ain't  heard 
many.  And  you'll  forgive  me,  please,  if  I  tell  you  there's 
nothing  funny  in  my  speaking  about  my  pleasure  gardens, 
though  it  does  sound  a  bit  funny  to  hear  'em  called  '  a  bit  of 
grass  '  by  a  man  that's  got  nothing  but  a  few  apple  trees, 
past  bearing,  and  a  strip  of  potatoes  and  weeds,  and  a 
fowl-run.  But,  as  you've  got  no  use  for  a  garden,  per- 
haps you'll  remember  the  inn  yard,  and  how  many  hosses 
you  can  put  up,  and  how  many  I  can." 

"  It's  the  number  of  hosses  that  comes  —  not  the  num- 
ber you  put  up,"  he  answered ;  "  and  if  you  want  to  tell 
me  you've  often  obliged  with  a  spare  space  in  your  yard, 
perhaps  I  may  remind  you  that  you  generally  got  quite 


260  THE  SPINNERS 

as  good  as  you  gave.  But  be  that  as  it  will,  the  point 
lies  in  one  simple  question,  and  I  ask  you  if  you  really 
thought,  as  a  woman  nearer  sixty  than  fifty  and  with 
credit  for  sense,  that  I  was  going  to  chuck  '  The  Tiger  ' 
and  coming  over  to  your  shop.  Did  you  really  think 
that?  " 

Not  for  an  instant  had  she  thought  it ;  but  the  time  was 
inappropriate  for  saying  so.  She  might  have  confessed 
the  truth  in  the  past;  she  might  confess  the  truth  in  the 
future ;  she  was  not  going  to  do  so  at  present.  He  should 
have  a  stab  for  his  stab. 

"  You've  often  told  me  I  was  the  sensiblest  woman  in 
Dorset,  Richard,  and  being  that,  I  naturally  thought  you'd 
drop  your  bar-loafers'  place  and  come  over  to  me  —  and 
glad  to  come." 

"  Good  God !  "  he  said,  and  stared  at  her  with  open 
nostrils,  from  which  indignant  air  exploded  in  gusts. 

She  began  to  make  peace  from  that  moment,  feeling 
that  the  limit  had  been  reached.  Indeed  she  was  rather 
anxious.  The  thrust  appeared  to  be  mortal.  Mr.  Gurd 
rolled  in  his  chair,  and  after  his  oath,  could  find  no  fur- 
ther words. 

She  declared  sorrow. 

"  There  —  forgive  me  —  I  didn't  mean  to  say  that. 
'Tis  a  crying  shame  to  see  two  old  people  dressing  one 
another  down  this  way.  I'm  sorry  if  I  hurt  your  feel- 
ings, but  don't  forget  you've  properly  trampled  on  mine. 
My  pleasure  grounds  are  my  life-blood  you  might  say; 
and  you  knew  it." 

"  You  needn't  apologise  now.  c  The  Tiger '  a  bar- 
loafers'  place!  The  centre  of  all  high-class  sport  in  the 
district  a  bar-loafers'  place !  Well,  well !  No  wonder  you 
thought  I'd  be  glad  to  come  and  live  at  '  The  Seven 
Stars'!" 

"  I  didn't  really,"  she  confessed.  "  I  knew  very  well 
you  wouldn't ;  but  I  had  to  say  it.  The  words  just  flashed 


CLASH  OF  OPINIONS  261 

out.  And  if  I'd  remembered  a  joke  was  nothing  to  you, 
I  might  have  thought  twice." 

"  I  laughed,  however." 

"  Yes,  you  laughed,  I  grant  —  what  you  can  do  in  that 
direction,  which  ain't  much." 

Mr.  Gurd  rose  to  his  full  height. 

"  Well,  that  lets  me  out,"  he  said.  "  We'd  better  turn 
this  over  in  a  forgiving  spirit;  and  since  you  say  you're 
sorry,  I  won't  be  behind  you,  though  my  words  was  whips 
to  your  scorpions  and  you  can't  deny  it." 

"  We'll  meet  again  in  a  week,"  said  Mrs.  Northover. 

"  Make  it  a  fortnight,"  he  suggested. 

"  No  —  say  a  month,"  she  answered  — "  or  six  weeks." 

Then  it  was  Richard's  turn  to  feel  the  future  in  danger. 
But  he  had  no  intention  to  eat  humble  pie  that  evening. 

"  A  month  then.  But  one  point  I  wish  to  make  bitter 
clear,  Nelly.  If  you  marry  me,  you  come  to  '  The 
Tiger.'  " 

"  So  it  seems." 

"  Yes  —  bar-loafers,  or  no  bar-loafers." 

"  I'll  bear  it  in  mind,  Richard." 

The  leave-taking  lacked  affection  and  they  parted  with 
full  hearts.  Each  was  smarting  under  consciousness  of 
the  other's  failure  in  nice  feeling;  each  was  amazed  as  at 
a  revelation.  Richard  kept  his  mouth  shut  concerning 
this  interview,  for  he  was  proud  and  did  not  like  to  con- 
fess even  to  himself  that  he  stood  on  the  verge  of  disaster ; 
but  Mrs.  Northover  held  a  familiar  within  her  gates,  and 
she  did  not  hesitate  to  lay  the  course  of  the  adventure 
before  Job  Legg. 

"  The  world  is  full  of  surprises,"  said  Nelly,  "  and  you 
never  know,  when  you  begin  talking,  where  the  gift  of 
speech  will  land  you.  And  if  you're  dealing  with  a  man 
who  can't  take  a  bit  of  fun  and  can't  keep  his  eyes  on  his 
tongue  and  his  temper  at  the  same  time,  trouble  will  often 
happen." 


262  THE  SPINNERS 

She  told  the  story  with  honesty  and  did  not  exaggerate ; 
but  Mr.  Legg  supported  her  and  held  that  such  a  self-, 
respecting  woman  could  have  done  and  said  no  less.  He 
declared  that  Richard  Gurd  had  brought  the  misfortune 
on  himself,  and  feared  that  the  innkeeper's  display  re- 
vealed a  poor  understanding  of  female  nature. 

"  It  isn't  as  if  you  was  a  difficult  and  notorious  sort  of 
woman,"  explained  Job ;  "  for  then  the  man  might  have 
reason  on  his  side;  but  to  misunderstand  you  and  over- 
look your  playful  touch  —  that  shows  he's  got  a  low 
order  of  brain;  because  you  always  speak  clearly.  Your 
word  is  as  good  as  your  bond  and  none  can  question  your 
judgment." 

He  proceeded  to  examine  the  argument  earnestly  and 
had  just  proved  that  Mrs.  Northover  was  well  within  her 
right  to  set  *  The  Seven  Stars  '  above  *  The  Tiger,'  when 
Raymond  Ironsyde  entered. 

He  returned  from  dining  with  his  aunt,  and  an  inter- 
view now  concluded  was  of  very  painful  and  far-reaching 
significance.  For  they  had  not  agreed,  and  Miss  Iron- 
syde proved  no  more  able  to  convince  her  nephew  than 
was  he,  to  make  her  see  his  purpose  combined  truest  wis- 
dom and  humanity. 

They  talked  after  dinner  and  she  invited  him  to  justify 
his  conduct  if  he  could,  before  hearing  her  opinions  and 
intentions.  He  replied  at  once  and  she  found  his  argu- 
ments and  reasons  all  arrayed  and  ready  to  his  tongue. 
He  spoke  clearly  and  stated  his  case  in  very  lucid  lan- 
guage ;  but  he  irritated  her  by  showing  that  his  mind  was 
entirely  closed  to  argument  and  that  he  was  not  prepared 
to  be  influenced  in  any  sort  of  way.  Her  power  had  van- 
ished now  and  she  saw  how  only  her  power,  not  her  persua- 
sion, had  won  Raymond  before  his  brother's  death.  He 
spoke  with  utmost  plainness  and  did  not  spare  himself  in 
the  least. 

"  I've  been  wrong,"  he  said,  "  but  I'm  going  to  try  and 
be  right  in  the  future.  I  did  a  foolish  thing  and  fell  in 


CLASH  OF  OPINIONS  263 

love  with  a  good  and  clever  girl.  Once  in  love,  of  course, 
everything  was  bent  and  deflected  to  be  seen  through  that 
medium  and  I  believed  that  nothing  else  mattered  or  ever 
would.  Then  came  the  sequel,  and  being  powerless  to 
resist,  I  was  going  to  marry.  For  some  cowardly  reason 
I  funked  poverty,  and  the  thought  of  escaping  it  made  me 
agree  to  marry  Sabina,  knowing  all  the  time  it  must  prove 
a  failure.  That  was  my  second  big  mistake,  and  the 
third  was  asking  her  to  come  and  live  with  me  without 
marrying  her.  I  suggested  that,  because  I  wanted  her 
and  felt  very  keen  about  the  child.  I  ought  not  to  have 
thought  of  such  a  thing.  It  wasn't  fair  to  her  —  I  quite 
see  that." 

"  Can  anything  be  fair  to  her  short  of  marriage?  " 

"  Not  from  her  point  of  view,  Aunt  Jenny." 

"  And  what  other  point  of  view,  in  keeping  with  honour 
and  religion,  exists  ?  " 

"  As  to  religion,  I'm  without  it  and  so  much  the  freer. 
I  don't  want  to  pretend  anything  I  don't  feel.  I  shall 
always  be  very  sorry,  indeed,  for  what  I  did;  but  I'm 
not  going  to  wreck  my  life  by  marrying  Sabina." 

"What  about  her  life?" 

"  If  she  will  trust  her  life  to  me,  I  shall  do  all  in  my 
power  to  make  it  a  happy  and  easy  life.  I  want  the  child 
to  be  a  success.  I  know  it  will  grow  up  a  reproach  to 
me  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  in  the  opinion  of  many  peo- 
ple; but  that  won't  trouble  me  half  as  much  as  my  own 
regrets.  I've  not  done  anything  that  puts  me  beyond  the, 
pale  of  humanity  —  nor  has  Sabina ;  and  if  she  can  keep 
her  nerve  and  go  on  with  her  life,  it  ought  to  be  all  right 
for  her,  presently." 

"  A  very  cynical  attitude  and  I  wish  I  could  change  it, 
Raymond.  You've  lost  your  self-respect  and  you  know 
you've  done  a  wrong  thing.  Can't  you  see  that  you'll 
always  suffer  it  if  you  take  no  steps  to  right  it  ?  You  are 
a  man  of  feeling,  and  power  can't  lessen  your  feeling. 
Every  time  you  see  that  child,  you  will  know  that  you 


THE  SPINNERS 

have  brought  a  living  soul  into  the  world  cruelly  handi- 
capped by  your  deliberate  will." 

"  That's  not  a  fair  argument,"  he  answered.  "  If  our 
rotten  laws  handicap  the  baby,  it  will  be  my  object  to 
nullify  the  handicap  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  The  laws 
won't  come  between  me  and  my  child,  any  more  than 
they  came  between  me  and  my  passion.  I'm  not  the  sort 
to  hide  behind  the  mean  English  law  of  the  natural  child. 
But  I'm  not  going  to  let  that  law  bully  me  into  marriage 
with  Sabina.  I've  got  to  think  of  myself  as  well  as  other 
people.  I  won't  say,  what's  true  —  that  if  Sabina  mar- 
ried me  she  wouldn't  be  happy  in  the  long  run ;  but  I  will 
say  that  I  know  I  shouldn't  be,  and  I'm  not  prepared  to 
pay  any  penalty  whatever  for  what  I  did,  beyond  the  pen- 
alty of  my  own  regrets." 

"  If  you  rule  religion  out  and  think  you  can  escape 
and  keep  your  honour,  I  don't  know  what  to  say,"  she 
answered.  "  For  my  part  I  believe  Sabina  would  make 
you  a  very  good  and  loving  wife.  And  don't  fancy,  if  you 
refuse  her  what  faithfully  you  promised  her,  she  will  be 
content  with  less." 

"  That's  her  look  out.  You  won't  be  wise,  Aunt  Jenny, 
to  influence  her  against  a  fair  and  generous  offer.  I  want 
her  to  live  a  good  life,  and  I  don't  want  our  past  love- 
making  to  ruin  that  life,  or  our  child  to  ruin  that  life. 
If  she's  going  to  pose  as  a  martyr,  I  can't  help  it.  That's 
the  side  of  her  that  wrecked  the  show,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
and  made  it  very  clear  to  me  that  we  shouldn't  be  a  happy 
married  couple." 

"  Self-preservation  is  a  law  of  nature.  She  only  did 
what  any  girl  would  have  done  in  trying  to  find  friends  to 
save  her  from  threatened  disaster." 

"  Well,  I  dare  say  it  was  natural  to  her  to  take  that 
line,  and  it  was  equally  natural  to  me  to  resent  it.  At  any 
rate  we  know  where  we  stand  now.  Tell  me  if  there's 
anything  else." 


CLASH  OF  OPINIONS  265 

"  I  only  warn  you  that  she  will  accept  no  benefits  of 
any  kind  from  you,  Raymond.  And  who  shall  blame 
her?  " 

"  That's  entirely  her  affair,  of  course.  I  can't  do  more 
than  admit  my  responsibilities  and  declare  my  interest  in 
her  future." 

"  She  will  throw  your  interest  back  in  your  face  and 
teach  her  child  to  despise  you,  as  she  does." 

"  How  d'you  know  that,  Aunt  Jenny?  " 

"  Because  she's  a  proud  woman.  And  because  she 
would  lose  the  friendship  of  all  proud  women  and  clean 
thinking  men  if  she  condoned  what  you  intend  to  do.  It's 
horrible  to  see  you  turned  from  a  simple,  stupid,  but  hon- 
ourable boy,  into  a  hard,  selfish,  irreligious  man  —  and  all 
the  result  of  being  rich.  I  should  never  have  thought  it 
could  have  made  such  a  dreadful  difference  so  quickly. 
But  I  have  not  changed,  Raymond.  And  I  tell  you  this : 
if  you  don't  marry  Sabina ;  if  you  don't  see  that  only  so 
can  you  hold  up  your  head  as  an  honest  man  and  a  re- 
spectable member  of  society,  worthy  of  your  class  and 
your  family,  then,  I,  for  one,  can  have  no  more  to  do  with 
you.  I  mean  it." 

"  I'm  sorry  you  say  that.  You've  been  my  guardian 
angel  in  a  way  and  I've  a  million  things  to  thank  you  for 
from  my  childhood.  It  would  be  a  great  grief  to  me, 
Aunt  Jenny,  if  you  allowed  a  difference  of  opinion  to  make 
you  take  such  a  line.  I  hope  you'll  think  differently." 

"  I  shall  not,"  she  said.  "  I  have  not  told  you  this  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment,  or  before  I  had  thought  it  out 
very  fully  and  very  painfully.  But  if  you  do  this  out- 
rageous thing,  I  will  never  be  your  aunt  any  more,  Ray- 
mond, and  never  wish  to  see  you  again  as  long  as  I  live. 
You  know  me;  I'm  not  hysterical,  or  silly,  or  even  senti- 
mental; but  I'm  jealous  for  your  father's  name  —  and 
your  brother's.  You  know  where  duty  and  honour  and 
solemn  obligation  point.  There  is  no  reason  whatever 


266  THE  SPINNERS 

why  you  should  shirk  your  duty,  or  sully  your  honour; 
but  if  you  do,  I  decline  to  have  any  further  dealings  with 
you." 

He  rose  to  go. 

"  That's  definite  and  clear.     Good-bye,  Aunt  Jenny." 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said.  "  And  may  God  guide  you  to 
recall  that  *  good-bye,'  nephew." 

Then  he  went  back  to  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  and  won- 
dered as  he  walked,  how  the  new  outlook  had  shrunk  up 
this  old  woman  too,  and  made  one,  who  bulked  so  largely 
in  his  life  of  old,  now  appear  as  of  no  account  whatever. 
He  was  heartily  sorry  she  should  have  taken  so  unreason- 
able a  course ;  but  he  grieved  more  for  her  sake  than  his 
own.  She  was  growing  old.  She  would  lack  his  company 
in  the  time  to  come,  and  her  heart  was  too  warm  to  endure 
this  alienation  without  much  pain. 

He  suspected  that  if  Sabina's  future  course  of  action 
satisfied  Miss  Ironsyde,  she  would  be  friendly  to  her  and 
the  child  and,  in  time,  possibly  win  some  pleasure  from 
them. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE    BUNCH    OF    GRAPES 

RAYMOND  proceeded  with  his  business  at  Bridetown  oblivi- 
ous of  persons  and  personalities.  He  puzzled  those  who 
were  prepared  to  be  his  enemies,  for  it  seemed  he  was 
becoming  as  impersonal  as  the  spinning  machines,  and  one 
cannot  quarrel  with  a  machine. 

It  appeared  that  he  was  to  be  numbered  with  those  who 
begin  badly  and  retrieve  the  situation  afterwards.  So,  at 
least,  hoped  Ernest  Churchouse,  yet,  since  the  old  man 
was  called  to  witness  and  endure  a  part  of  the  sorrows 
of  Sabina  and  her  mother,  it  demanded  large  faith  on  his 
part  to  anticipate  brighter  times.  He  clung  to  it  that 
Raymond  would  yet  marry  Sabina,  and  he  regretted  that 
when  the  young  man  actually  offered  to  see  Sabina,  she 
refused  to  see  him.  For  this  happened.  He  came  to 
stop  at  North  Hill  House  for  two  months,  while  certain 
experts  were  inspecting  the  works,  and  during  this  time  he 
wished  to  visit  '  The  Magnolias  '  and  talk  with  Sabina, 
but  she  declined. 

The  very  active  hate  that  he  had  awakened  sank  grad- 
ually to  smouldering  fires  of  bitter  resentment  and  con- 
tempt. She  spoke  openly  of  destroying  their  babe  when 
it  should  be  born. 

Then  the  event  happened  and  Sabina  became  the  mother 
of  a  man  child. 

Raymond  was  still  with  Arthur  Waldron  when  Estelle 
brought  the  news,  and  the  men  discussed  it. 

"  I  hope  she'll  be  reasonable  now,"  said  Ironsyde.  "  It 
bothered  me  when  she  refused  to  see  me,  because  you  can't 

267 


268  THE  SPINNERS 

oppose  reason  to  stupidity  of  that  sort.  If  she's  going 
to  take  my  aunt's  line,  of  course,  I'm  done,  and  shall 
be  powerless  to  help  her.  I  spoke  to  Uncle  Ernest  about 
it  two  days  ago.  He  says  that  it  will  have  to  be  marriage, 
or  nothing,  and  seemed  to  think  that  would  move  me  to 
marriage !  Some  people  can't  understand  plain  English. 
But  why  should  she  cut  off  her  nose  to  spite  her  face  and 
refuse  my  friendship  and  help  because  I  won't  marry 
her?  " 

"  She's  that  sort,  I  suppose.  Of  course,  plenty  of 
women  would  do  the  same." 

"  I'm  not  convinced  it's  Sabina  really  who  is  doing  this. 
That's  why  I  wanted  to  see  her.  Very  likely  Aunt  Jenny 
is  inspiring  such  a  silly  attitude,  or  her  mother.  They 
may  think  if  she's  firm  I  may  yield.  They  don't  seem  to 
realise  that  love's  as  dead  as  a  doornail  now.  But  my 
duty  is  clear  enough  and  they  can't  prevent  me  from  doing 
it,  I  imagine." 

"  You  want  to  be  sporting  to  the  child,  of  course." 

"  And  to  the  mother  of  the  child.  Damn  it  all,  I'm 
made  of  flesh  and  blood.  I'm  not  a  fiend.  But  with 
women,  if  you  have  a  grain  of  common-sense  and  reason- 
ing power,  you  become  a  fiend  the  moment  there's  a  row. 
I  want  Sabina  and  my  child  to  have  a  good  show  in  the 
world,  Arthur." 

"  Well,  you  must  let  her  know  it." 

"  I'll  see  her,  presently.  I'll  take  no  denial  about  that. 
It  may  be  a  pious  plot  really,  for  religious  people  don't 
care  how  they  intrigue,  if  they  can  bring  off  what  they 
want  to  happen.  It  was  very  strange  she  refused  to  see 
me.  Perhaps  they  never  told  her  that  I  offered  to  come." 

"  Yes,  they  did,  because  Estelle  heard  Churchouse  tell 
her.  Estelle  was  with  her  at  the  time,  and  she  said  she 
was  so  sorry  when  Sabina  refused.  It  may  have  been 
because  she  was  ill,  of  course." 

"  I  must  see  her  before  I  go  away,  anyway.  If  they've 
been  poisoning  her  mind  against  me,  I  must  put  it  right." 


THE  BUNCH  OF  GRAPES         269 

"  You're  a  rum  'un !  Can't  you  see  what  this  means  to 
her?  You  talk  as  if  she'd  no  grievance,  and  as  though  it 
was  all  a  matter  of  course  and  an  everyday  thing." 

"  So  it  is,  for  that  matter.  However,  there's  no  reason 
for  you  to  bother  about  it.  I  quite  recognise  what  it  is  to 
be  a  father,  and  the  obligations.  But  because  I  happen 
to  be  a  father,  is  no  reason  why  I  should  be  asked  to  do 
impossibilities.  Because  you've  made  a  fool  of  yourself 
once  is  no  reason  why  you  should  again.  By  good  chance 
I've  had  unexpected  luck  in  life  and  things  have  fallen  out 
amazingly  well  —  and  I'm  very  willing  indeed  that  other 
people  should  share  my  good  luck  and  good  fortune.  I 
mean  that  they  shall.  But  I'm  not  going  to  negative  my 
good  fortune  by  doing  an  imbecile  thing." 

"  As  long  as  you're  sporting  I've  got  no  quarrel  with 
you,"  declared  Waldron.  "  I'm  not  very  clever  myself, 
but  I  can  see  that  if  they  won't  let  you  do  what  you  want 
to  do,  it's  not  your  fault.  If  they  refuse  to  let  you  play 
the  game  —  but,  of  course,  you  must  grant  the  game  looks 
different  from  their  point  of  view.  No  doubt  they  think 
you're  not  playing  the  game.  A  woman's  naturally  not 
such  a  sporting  animal  as  a  man,  and  what  we  think  is 
straight,  she  often  doesn't  appreciate,  and  what  she  thinks 
is  straight  we  often  know  is  crooked.  Women,  in  fact, 
are  more  like  the  other  nations  which,  with  all  their  ex- 
cellent qualities,  don't  know  what  '  sporting '  means." 

"  I  mean  to  do  right,"  answered  Raymond,  "  and  prob- 
ably I'm  strong  enough  to  make  them  see  it  and  wear  them 
down,  presently.  I'm  really  only  concerned  about  Sabina 
and  her  child.  The  rest,  and  what  they  think  and  what 
they  don't  think,  matter  nothing.  She  may  listen  to  rea- 
son when  she's  well  again." 

Two  days  later  Raymond  received  a  box  from  London 
and  showed  Estelle  an  amazing  bunch  of  Muscat  grapes, 
destined  for  Sabina. 

"  She  always  liked  grapes,"  he  said,  "  and  these  are  as 
good  as  any  in  the  world  at  this  moment." 


270  THE  SPINNERS 

On  his  way  to  the  Mill  he  left  the  grapes  at  '  The  Mag- 
nolias,' and  spoke  a  moment  with  Mr.  Churchouse. 

"  She  is  making  an  excellent  recovery,"  said  Ernest, 
"  and  I  am  hoping  that,  presently,  the  maternal  instinct 
will  assert  itself.  I  do  everything  to  encourage  it.  But, 
of  course,  when  conditions  are  abnormal,  results  must  be 
abnormal.  She's  a  very  fine  and  brave  woman  and  worthy 
of  supreme  admiration.  And  worthy  of  far  better  and 
more  manly  treatment  than  she  has  received  from  you. 
But  you  know  that  very  well,  Raymond.  Owing  to  the 
complexities  created  by  civilisation  clashing  with  nature, 
we  get  much  needless  pain  in  the  world.  But  a  reason- 
able being  should  have  recognised  the  situation,  as  you 
did  not,  and  realise  that  we  have  no  right  to  obey  nature 
if  we  know  at  the  same  time  we  are  flouting  civilisation. 
You  think  you're  doing  right  by  considering  Sabina's  fu- 
ture. You  are  a  gross  materialist,  Raymond,  and  the 
end  of  that  is  always  dust  and  ashes  and  defeated  hopes. 
I  won't  bring  religion  into  it,  because  that  wouldn't  carry 
weight  with  you ;  but  I  bring  justice  into  it  and  your  debt 
to  the  social  order,  that  has  made  you  what  you  are  and 
to  which  you  owe  everything.  You  have  done  a  grave 
and  wicked  wrong  to  the  new-born  atom  of  life  in  this 
house,  and  though  it  is  now  too  late  wholly  to  right  that 
wrong,  much  might  yet  be  done.  I  blame  you,  but  I  hope 
for  you  —  I  still  hope  for  you." 

He  took  the  grapes,  and  Raymond,  somewhat  staggered 
by  this  challenge,  found  himself  not  ready  to  answer  it. 

"  We'll  have  a  talk  some  evening,  Uncle  Ernest,"  he 
answered.  "  I  don't  expect  your  generation  to  see  this 
thing  from  my  point  of  view.  It's  reasonable  you 
shouldn't,  because  you  can't  change;  and  it's  also  reason- 
able that  I  shouldn't  see  it  from  your  point  of  view.  If 
I'm  material,  I'm  built  so ;  and  that  won't  prevent  me  from 
doing  my  duty." 

"  I  would  talk  the  hands  round  the  clock  if  I  thought  I 


THE  BUNCH  OF  GRAPES         271 

could  help  you  to  see  your  duty  with  other  eyes  than  your 
own,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  I  am  quite  ready  to  speak 
when  you  are  to  listen.  And  I  shall  begin  by  reminding 
you  that  you  are  a  father.  You  expect  Sabina  to  be  a 
mother  in  the  full  meaning  of  that  beautiful  word ;  but  a 
child  must  have  a  father  also." 

"  I  am  willing  to  be  a  father." 

"  Yes,  on  your  own  values,  which  ignore  the  welfare  of 
the  community,  justice  to  the  next  generation,  and  the 
respect  you  should  entertain  for  yourself." 

"  Well,  we'll  thresh  it  out  another  time.  You  know  I 
respect  you  very  much,  Uncle  Ernest ;  and  I'm  sure  you'll 
weigh  my  point  of  view  and  not  let  Aunt  Jenny  influence 
you." 

"  I  have  a  series  of  duties  before  me,"  answered  Mr. 
Churchouse ;  "  and  not  least  among  them  is  to  reconcile 
you  and  your  aunt.  That  you  should  have  broken  with 
your  sole  remaining  relative  is  heartbreaking." 

"  I'd  be  friends  to-morrow;  but  you  know  her." 

He  went  away  to  the  works  and  Ernest  took  the  grapes 
to  Mrs.  Dinnett. 

"  You'd  better  not  let  her  have  them,  however,  unless 
the  doctor  permits  it,"  said  Mr.  Churchouse,  whereupon, 
Mary,  not  trusting  herself  to  speak,  took  the  grapes  and 
departed.  The  affront  embodied  in  the  fruit  affected  a 
mind  much  overwrought  of  late.  She  took  the  present  to 
Sabina's  room. 

"  There,"  she  said.  "  He's  sunk  to  sending  that.  I'd 
like  to  fling  them  in  his  face." 

"  Take  them  away.     I  can't  touch  them." 

"  Touch  them !  And  poisoned  as  likely  as  not.  A  man 
that's  committed  his  crimes  would  stick  at  nothing." 

"  He  uses  poison  enough,"  said  the  young  mother ;  "  but 
only  the  poison  he  can  use  safely.  It  matters  nothing  to 
him  if  I  live  or  die.  No  doubt  he'd  will  me  dead,  and  this 
child  too,  if  he  could ;  but  seeing  he  can't,  he  cares  noth* 


THE  SPINNERS 

ing.  He'll  heap  insult  on  injury,  no  doubt.  He's  made 
of  clay  coarse  enough  to  do  it.  But  when  I'm  well,  I'll 
see  him  and  make  it  clear,  once  for  all." 

"  You  say  that  now.  But  I  hope  you'll  never  see  him, 
or  breathe  the  same  air  with  him." 

"  Once  —  when  I'm  strong.  I  don't  want  him  to  go  on 
living  his  life  without  knowing  what  I'm  thinking  of  him. 
I  don't  want  him  to  think  he  can  pose  as  a  decent  man 
again.  I  want  him  to  know  that  the  road-menders  and 
road-sweepers  are  high  above  him." 

"  Don't  you  get  in  a  passion.  He  knows  all  that  well 
enough.  He  isn't  deceiving  himself  any  more  than  any- 
body else.  All  honest  people  know  what  he  is  —  foul 
wretch.  Yes,  he's  poisoned  three  lives,  if  no  more,  and 
they  are  yours  and  mine  and  that  sleeping  child's." 

"  He's  ruined  his  aunt's  life,  too.  She's  thrown  him 
over." 

"  That  won't  trouble  him.  War  against  women  is  what 
you'd  expect.  But  please  God,  he'll  be  up  against  a  man 
some  day  —  then  we  shall  see  a  different  result.  May  the 
Almighty  let  me  live  long  enough  to  see  him  in  the  gutter, 
where  he  belongs.  I  ask  no  more." 

They  poured  their  bitterness  upon  Raymond  Ironsyde ; 
then  a  thought  came  into  Mary  Dinnett's  mind  and  she 
left  Sabina.  Judging  the  time,  she  put  on  her  bonnet 
presently  and  walked  out  to  the  road  whence  Raymond 
would  return  from  his  work  at  the  luncheon  hour. 

She  stood  beside  the  road  at  a  stile  that  led  into  the 
fields,  and  as  Raymond,  deep  in  thought,  passed  her  with- 
out looking  up,  he  saw  something  cast  at  his  feet  and  for 
a  moment  stood  still.  With  a  soft  thud  his  bunch  of 
grapes  fell  ruined  in  the  dust  before  him  and,  starting 
back,  he  looked  at  the  stile  and  saw  Sabina's  mother  gaz- 
ing at  him  red-faced  and  furious.  Neither  spoke.  The 
woman's  countenance  told  her  hatred  and  loathing;  the 
man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and,  after  one  swift  glance 


THE  BUNCH  OF  GRAPES         273 

at  her,  proceeded  on  his  way  without  quickening  or  slack- 
ening his  stride. 

He  heard  her  spit  behind  him  and  found  time  to  regret 
that  a  woman  of  Mary's  calibre  should  be  at  Sabina's  side. 
Such  concentrated  hate  astonished  him  a  little.  There 
was  no  reason  in  it ;  nothing  could  be  gained  by  it.  This 
senseless  act  of  a  fool  merely  made  him  impatient.  But 
he  smiled  before  he  reached  North  Hill  House  to  think  that 
but  for  the  interposition  of  chance  and  fortune,  this  brain- 
less old  woman  might  have  become  his  mother-in-law. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

A    TRIUMPH    OF    REASON 

MRS.  NORTHOVER  took  care  that  her  interrupted  conver- 
sation with  Job  Legg  should  be  completed;  and  he,  too, 
was  anxious,  that  she  should  know  his  position.  But  he 
realised  the  danger  very  fully  and  was  circumspect  in  his 
criticism  of  Richard  Gurd's  attitude  toward  *  The  Seven 
Stars.' 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Job  on  the  evening  that  preceded 
a  very  important  event,  "  I  still  repeat  that  you  have  a 
right  to  consider  we're  higher  class  than  '  The  Tiger ' ; 
and  to  speak  of  the  renowned  garden  as  a  '  bit  of  grass  ' 
was  going  much  too  far.  It  shows  a  wrong  disposition, 
and  it  wasn't  a  gentlemanly  thing,  and  if  it  weren't  such  a 
wicked  falsehood,  you  might  laugh  at  it  for  jealousy." 

"  Who  ever  would  have  thought  the  man  jealous?  "  she 
asked. 

"  These  failings  will  out,"  declared  Mr.  Legg.  "  And 
seeing  you  mean  to  take  him,  it  is  as  well  you  know  it." 

She  nodded  rather  gloomily. 

"  Your  choice  of  words  is  above  praise,  I'm  sure,  Job," 
she  said.  "  For  such  a  simple  and  straightforward  man, 
you've  a  wonderful  knowledge  of  the  human  heart." 

"  Through  tribulation  I've  come  to  it,"  he  answered. 
"  However,  I'm  here  to  help  you,  not  talk  about  my  own 
bitter  disappointments.  And  very  willing  I  am  to  help 
you  when  it  can  be  done." 

"  D'you  think  you  could  speak  to  Richard  for  me,  and 
put  out  the  truth  concerning  '  The  Seven  Stars  '  ?  "  she 
asked.  But  Mr.  Legg,  simple  though  he  might  be,  was 
not  as  simple  as  that. 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  There's  few  things  I  wouldn't  do 

374 


A  TRIUMPH  OF  REASON         275 

for  you,  on  the  earth  or  in  the  waters  under  the  earth,  and 
I  say  that,  even  though  you've  turned  me  down  after 
lifting  the  light  of  hope.  But  for  me  to  see  Gurd  on  this 
subject  is  impossible.  It's  far  too  delicate.  Another 
man  might,  but  not  me,  because  he  knows  that  I  stand  in 
the  unfortunate  position  of  the  cast  out.  So  if  there's 
one  man  that  can't  go  to  Gurd  and  demand  reparation  on 
your  account,  I'm  that  man.  In  a  calmer  moment,  you'll 
be  the  first  to  see  it." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  so.  He'd  think,  if  you  talked  sense 
to  him,  you  had  an  axe  to  grind  and  treat  you  according. 
You've  suffered  enough." 

"  I  have  without  a  doubt,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so," 
he  answered  her. 

"  I  think  just  as  much  of  you  as  ever  I  did  notwith- 
standing," said  Mrs.  Northover.  "  And  I'll  go  so  far  as 
to  say  that  your  simple  goodness  and  calm  sense  under  all 
circumstances  might  wear  better  in  the  long  run  than 
Richard's  overbearing  way  and  cruel  conceit.  Be  honest, 
Job.  Do  you  yourself  think  '  The  Tiger '  is  a  finer  house 
and  more  famous  than  my  place?  " 

Mr.  Legg  perceived  very  accurately  where  Nelly  suf- 
fered most. 

"  This  house,"  he  declared,  "  have  got  the  natural  ad- 
vantages and  Gurd  have  got  the  pull  in  the  matter  of 
capital.  My  candid  opinion,  what  I've  come  to  after 
many  years  of  careful  thought  on  the  subject,  is  that  if 
we  —  I  say  '  we '  from  force  of  habit,  though  I'm  in  the 
outer  darkness  now  —  if  we  had  a  few  hundred  pounds 
spending  on  us  and  an  advertisement  to  holiday  people  in 
the  papers  sometimes,  then  in  six  months  we  shouldn't 
hear  any  more  about  '  The  Tiger.'  Cash,  spent  by  the 
hand  of  a  master  on  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  would  lift  us  into 
a  different  house  and  we  should  soon  be  known  to  cater 
for  a  class  that  wouldn't  recognise  '  The  Tiger.'  What 
we  want  is  a  bit  of  gold  and  white  paint  before  next  sum- 
mer and  all  those  delicate  marks  about  the  place  that 


276  THE  SPINNERS 

women  understand  and  value.  I've  often  thought  that  a 
new  sign  for  example,  with  seven  golden  stars  on  a  sky 
blue  background,  and  perhaps  even  a  flagstaff  in  the 
pleasure  grounds,  with  our  own  flag  flying  upon  it,  would, 
as  it  were,  widen  the  gulf  between  him  and  you.  But,  of 
course,  that  was  before  these  things  happened,  and  when 
I  was  thinking,  day  and  night  you  may  say,  how  to  catch 
the  custom." 

Mrs.  Northover  sighed. 

"  In  another  man,  it  would  be  craft  to  say  such  clever 
things,"  she  answered;  "  but,  in  you,  I  know  it's  just  sim- 
ple goodness  of  heart  and  Christian  fellowship.  'Tis 
amazing  how  we  think  alike." 

"  Not  now,"  he  corrected  her.  "  Too  late  now.  I  wish 
to  God  we  had  thought  alike ;  for  then,  instead  of  looking 
at  my  money  as  I'd  look  at  a  pile  of  road  scrapings,  I 
should  see  it  with  very  different  eyes.  My  windfall  would 
have  been  poured  out  here  in  such  a  fashion  that  the 
people  would  have  wondered.  This  place  is  my  life,  in  a 
manner  of  speaking.  My  earthly  life,  I  mean ;  which  you 
may  say  is  ended  now.  I  was,  in  my  own  opinion,  as 
much  a  part  of  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  as  the  beer  engine. 
And  when  uncle  died  this  was  my  first  thought.  Or  I 
should  say  my  second,  because  in  the  natural  course  of 
events,  you  were  the  first." 

She  sighed  again  and  Mr.  Legg  left  this  delicate  ground. 

"  If  the  man  can  only  be  brought  to  see  he's  wrong 
about  his  fanciful  opinion  of  '  The  Tiger,'  all  may  go 
right  for  you,"  he  continued.  "  I  don't  care  for  his  feel- 
ings over-much,  but  your  peace  of  mind  I  do  consider.  At 
present  he  dares  to  think  you're  a  silly  woman  whose  goose 
is  a  swan.  That's  very  disorderly  coming  from  the  man 
who's  going  to  marry  you.  Therefore  you  must  get  some 
clear-sighted  person  to  open  his  eyes,  and  make  it  bitter 
clear  to  him  that  '  The  Tiger  '  never  was  and  never  will  be 
a  place  to  draw  nice  minds  and  the  female  element  like  us." 


A  TRIUMPH  OF  REASON         277 

"  There's  nobody  could  put  it  to  him  better  than  you," 
she  said. 

"  At  another  time,  perhaps  —  not  now.  I'm  not  clever, 
Nelly;  but  I'm  too  clever  to  edge  in  between  a  man  like 
Gurd  and  his  future  wife.  If  we  stood  different,  then 
nobody  would  open  his  mouth  quicker  than  me." 

"  We  may  stand  different  yet,"  she  answered.  "  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  passion  when  we  met,  and  not  the  sort 
of  passion  you  expect  between  lovers,  either." 

"  If  that  is  so,"  he  answered,  "  then  we  can  only  leave 
it  for  the  future.  But  this  I'll  certainly  say:  if  you  tell 
me  presently  that  you're  free  to  the  nation  once  more  and 
have  changed  your  mind  about  Richard,  then  I'd  very  soon 
let  him  know  there's  a  gulf  fixed  between  '  The  Tiger  ' 
and  *  The  Seven  Stars  ' ;  and  if  you  said  the  word,  he'd  see 
that  gulf  getting  broader  and  broader  under  his  living 
eyes." 

"  I'd  have  overlooked  most  anything  but  what  he 
actually  said,"  she  declared.  "  But  to  strike  at  the  gar- 
den   However,  I'll  see  him,  and  if  I  find  he's  feeling 

like  what  I  am,  it's  quite  in  human  reason  that  we  may 
undo  the  past  before  it's  too  late." 

"  And  always  remember  it's  his  own  will  you  shall  live 
at  '  The  Tiger,'  "  warned  Job.  "  Excuse  my  bluntness 
in  reminding  you  of  his  words ;  which,  no  doubt,  you  com- 
mitted to  memory  long  before  you  told  me  about  'em ;  but 
the  point  lies  there.  You  can't  be  in  two  places  at  once, 
and  so  sure  as  you  sign  yourself  *  Gurd,'  you'll  sell,  or 
sublet  *  The  Seven  Stars.'  In  fact,  even  a  simple  brain 
like  mine  can  see  you'll  sell,  for  Richard  will  never  be  con- 
tent to  let  you  serve  two  masters ;  and  where  the  treasure 
is,  there  will  the  heart  be  also.  And  to  one  of  your  deli- 
cate feelings,  to  know  strange  hands  are  in  this  house, 
and  strange  things  being  done,  and  liberties  taken  with  the 
edifice  and  the  garden,  very  likely.  But  I  don't  want  to 
paint  any  such  dreadful  picture  as  that,  and,  of  course, 


278  THE  SPINNERS 

if  you  honestly  love  Richard,  though  you're  the  first 
woman  that  ever  could  —  then  enough  said." 

"  The  question  is  whether  he  loves  me.  However,  I'll 
turn  it  over ;  and  no  doubt  he  will,"  she  answered.  "  I  see 
him  to-morrow." 

"  And  don't  leave  anything  uncertain,  if  I  may  advise," 
concluded  Mr.  Legg.  "  I  speak  as  a  child  in  these  mat- 
ters ;  but,  if  he's  looking  at  this  thing  same  as  you  are, 
and  if  you  both  feel  you'd  be  finer  ornaments  of  society 
apart,  than  married,  all  I  say  is  don't  let  any  false  man- 
hood on  his  part,  or  modesty  on  yours,  keep  you  to  it. 
Better  be  good  neighbours  than  bad  partners.  And  if  I've 
said  too  much,  God  forgive  me." 

Fired  by  these  opinions  Nelly  went  to  her  meeting  with 
Richard  and  the  first  words  uttered  by  Mr.  Gurd  sent  a 
ray  of  warmth  to  her  heart,  for  it  seemed  he  also  had  re- 
viewed the  situation  in  a  manner  worthy  of  his  high  in- 
telligence. 

But  he  approached  the  subject  uneasily  and  Mrs. 
Northover  was  too  much  a  woman  to  rescue  him  at  once. 
She  had  been  through  a  good  deal  and  felt  it  fair  that  the 
master  of  *  The  Tiger '  should  also  suffer. 

"  It's  borne  in  upon  me,"  he  said,  after  some  generalities 
and  vague  hopes  that  Nelly  was  well,  "  that,  perhaps, 
there's  no  smoke  without  fire,  as  the  saying  is." 

"  Meaning  what  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Meaning,  that  though  we  flared  up  a  bit  and  forgot 
what  we  owe  to  ourselves,  there  must  have  been  a  reason 
for  so  much  feeling." 

"  There  certainly  was." 

"  We  needn't  go  back  over  the  details ;  but  you  may  be 
sure  there  must  have  lurked  more  behind  our  row  than 
just  a  difference  of  opinion.  People  don't  get  properly 
hot  with  each  other  unless  there's  a  reason,  Nelly,  and  I'm 
beginning  to  fear  that  the  reason  lies  deeper  than  we 
thought." 

He  waited  for  her  to  speak ;  but  she  did  not. 


A  TRIUMPH  OF  REASON         279 

"  You  mustn't  think  me  shifty,  or  anything  of  that 
kind ;  but  I  do  feel,  where  there  was  such  a  lot  of  smoke 
and  us  separated  all  these  weeks,  and  none  the  worse  for 
separation  apparently,  that,  if  we  was  to  take  the  step  — 
in  a  word,  it's  come  over  me  stronger  and  stronger  that  we 
might  do  well  to  weigh  what  we're  going  to  do  in  the  bal- 
ance before  we  do  it." 

Her  delight  knew  no  bounds.  But  still  she  did  not 
reply,  and  Mr.  Gurd  began  to  grow  red. 

"  If,  by  your  silence,  you  mean  that  I'm  cutting  a  poor 
figure  before  you,  and  you  think  I  want  to  be  off  our  bar- 
gain, you're  wrong,"  he  said.  "  Your  mind  ought  to  move 
quicker  and  I  don't  mind  telling  you  so.  I'm  not  off  my 
bargain,  because  I'm  a  man  of  honour,  and  my  word,  given 
to  man,  woman  or  child,  is  kept.  And  if  you  don't  know 
that,  you're  the  only  party  in  Bridport  that  don't.  But 
I  say  again,  there's  two  sides  to  it,  and  look  before  you 
leap,  though  not  a  maxim  women  are  very  addicted  to  fol- 
lowing, is  a  good  rule  for  all  that.  So  I'll  ask  you  how 
the  land  lies,  if  you  please.  You've  turned  this  over 
same  as  me ;  and  I'll  be  obliged  if  you'll  tell  me  how  you're 
viewing  it." 

"  In  other  words  you've  changed  your  mind?  " 

"  My  mind  can  wait.  I  may  have  done  so,  or  I  may 
not;  but  to  change  my  mind  ain't  to  change  my  word,  so 
you  need  have  no  anxiety  on  that  account." 

"  Far  from  being  anxious,"  answered  Mrs.  Northover, 
"  I  never  felt  so  light-hearted  since  I  was  a  girl,  Richard. 
For  why?  My  name  for  honest  dealing  is  as  high  as 
yours,  I  believe,  and  if  you'd  come  back  to  me  and  asked 
for  bygones  to  be  bygones,  I  should  have  struggled  with 
it,  same  as  you  meant  to  do.  But,  seeing  you're  shaken, 
I'm  pleased  to  tell,  that  I'm  shaken  also.  In  fact, 
*  shaken  '  isn't  a  strong  enough  word.  I'm  thankful  to 
Heaven  you  don't  want  to  go  on  with  it,  because,  more 
don't  I." 

"  If  anything  could  make  me  still  wish  to  take  you,  it's 


280  THE  SPINNERS 

to  hear  such  wisdom,"  declared  Mr.  Gurd,  after  a  noisy 
expiration  of  thanksgiving.  "  I  might  have  known  you 
wasn't  behind  me  in  brain  power,  and  I  might  have  felt 
you'd  be  bound  to  see  this  quite  as  quick  as  me,  if  not 
quicker.  And  I'm  sure  nothing  could  make  me  think 
higher  of  you  than  to  hear  these  comforting  words." 

Mrs.  Northover  used  an  aphorism  from  Mr.  Legg. 

"  Our  only  fault  was  not  to  see  each  other's  clever- 
ness," she  said,  "  or  to  think  for  a  moment,  after  what 
passed  between  us,  we  could  marry  without  loss  of  self- 
•respect.  It's  a  lot  better,  Richard,  to  be  good  neighbours 
than  bad  partners.  And  good  neighbours  we  always  have 
been  and  shall  be ;  and  whether  we'd  be  good  partners  or 
not  is  no  matter;  we  won't  run  the  risk." 

"  God  bless  you !  "  he  answered.  "  Then  we  part  true 
friends,  and  if  anything  could  make  me  feel  more  friendly 
than  I  always  have  felt,  it  is  your  high-mindedness,  Nelly. 
For  high-mindedness  there  never  was  your  equal.  And  if 
many  and  many  a  young  couple,  that  flies  together  and 
then  feels  the  call  to  fly  apart  again,  could  only  approach 
the  tender  subject  with  your  fair  sight  and  high  reasoning 
powers,  it  would  be  a  happier  world." 

"  There's  only  one  thing  left,"  concluded  Mrs.  North- 
over,  "  and  that's  to  let  the  public  know  we've  changed  our 
minds.  With  small  people,  that  wouldn't  matter;  but 
with  us,  we  can't  forget  we've  been  on  the  centre  of  the 
stage  lately ;  and  it  would  never  do  to  let  the  people  sup- 
pose that  we  had  quarrelled,  or  sunk  to  anything  vulgar." 

"  Leave  it  to  me,"  he  answered.  "  It  only  calls  for  a 
light  hand.  I  shall  pass  it  off  with  one  of  my  jokes,  and 
then  people  will  treat  it  in  a  laughing  spirit  and  not  brood 
over  it.  Folk  are  quick  to  take  a  man's  own  view  on 
everything  concerning  himself  if  he's  got  the  art  to  con- 
vince." 

"  We'll  say  that  more  marriages  are  made  on  the 
tongues  of  outsiders  than  ever  come  to  be  celebrated  in 
church,"  suggested  Mrs.  Northover,  "  and  then  people 


A  TRIUMPH  OF  REASON         281 

will  begin  to  doubt  if  it  wasn't  all  nonsense  from  the  first." 
"  And  they  won't  be  far  wrong  if  they  do.     It  was  non- 
sense ;  and  if  we  say  so  in  the  public  ear,  none  will  dare  to 
doubt  it." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE    OFFER    DECLINED 

ESTELLE  talked  to  Raymond  and  endeavoured  to  interest 
him  in  Sabina's  child. 

"  Everybody  who  understands  babies  says  that  he's  a 
lovely  and  perfect  one,"  declared  Estelle.  "  I  hope  you're 
going  to  look  at  him  before  you  go  away,  because  he's 
yours.  And  I  believe  he  will  be  like  you,  some  day.  Do 
the  colours  of  babies'  eyes  change,  like  kittens'  eyes, 
Ray?" 

"  Haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  he  answered.  "  You  may 
be  quite  sure  I  shall  take  care  of  it,  Estelle,  and  see  that 
it  has  everything  it  wants." 

"  Somehow  they're  not  pleased  with  you  all  the  same," 
she  answered.  "  I  don't  understand  about  it,  but  they 
evidently  feel  that  you  ought  to  have  married  Sabina.  I 
suppose  you're  not  properly  his  father  if  you  don't  marry 
her?" 

"  That's  nonsense,  Estelle.  I'm  quite  properly  his 
father,  and  I'm  going  to  be  a  jolly  good  father  too.  But 
I  don't  want  to  be  married.  I  don't  believe  in  it." 

"  If  Sabina  knew  you  were  going  to  love  him  and  be 
good  to  him,  she  would  be  happier,  I  hope." 

"  I'm  going  to  see  her  presently,"  he  said. 

"And  see  the  baby?" 

"  Plenty  of  time  for  that." 

"  There's  time,  of  course,  Ray.  But  he's  changing. 
He's  five  weeks  old  to-morrow,  and  I  can  see  great  changes. 
He  can  just  begin  to  laugh  now.  Things  amuse  him  we 
don't  know.  I  expect  babies  are  like  dogs  and  can  see 

what  we  can't." 

282 


THE  OFFER  DECLINED          283 

"  I'll  look  at  him  if  Sabina  likes." 

"  Of  course  she'll  like.  It's  rather  horrid  of  you,  in  a 
way,  being  able  to  go  on  with  your  work  for  so  many 
weeks  without  looking  at  him.  It's  really  rather  a  slight 
on  Sabina,  Ray.  If  I'd  had  a  baby,  and  his  father 
wouldn't  look  at  him  for  week  after  week,  I  should  be 
vexed.  And  so  is  Sabina." 

"  Next  time  you  see  her,  ask  her  to  name  a  day  and  I'll 
go  whenever  she  likes." 

Estelle  was  delighted. 

"  That's  lovely  of  you  and  it  will  cheer  her  up  very 
much,  for  certain,"  she  answered.  Then  she  ran  away, 
for  to  arrange  such  a  meeting  seemed  the  most  desirable 
thing  in  the  .world  to  her  at  that  moment.  To  Sabina 
she  went  as  fast  as  her  legs  could  take  her,  and  appreci- 
ating that  he  had  sent  this  guileless  messenger  to  ensure  a 
meeting  without  preliminaries  and  without  prejudice,  Sa- 
bina hid  her  feelings  and  specified  a  time  on  the  following 
day. 

"  If  he'll  come  to  see  me  to-morrow  in  the  dinner-hour, 
that  will  be  best.  I'll  be  alone  after  twelve  o'clock." 

"  You'll  show  him  the  baby,  won't  you,  Sabina?  " 

"  He  won't  want  to  see  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"Does  he  want  to?" 

"  Honestly  he  doesn't  seem  to  understand  how  wonder- 
ful the  baby  is,"' explained  the  child.  "  Ray's  going  to  be 
a  splendid  father  to  him,  Sabina.  He's  quite  interested; 
only  men  are  different  from  us.  Perhaps  they  never  feel 
much  interest  till  babies  can  talk  to  them.  My  father 
says  he  wasn't  much  interested  in  me  till  I  could  talk,  so 
it  may  be  a  general  thing.  But  when  Ray  sees  him,  he'll 
be  tremendously  proud  of  him." 

Sabina  said  no  more,  and  when  Raymond  arrived  to  see 
her  at  the  time  she  appointed,  he  found  her  waiting  near 
the  entrance  of  *  The  Magnolias.' 

She  wore  a  black  dress  and  was  looking  very  well  and 


THE  SPINNERS 

very  handsome.  But  the  expression  in  her  eyes  had 
changed.  He  put  out  his  hand,  but  she  did  not  take  it. 

"  Mister  Churchouse  has  kindly  said  we  can  talk  in  the 
study,  Mister  Ironsyde." 

He  followed  her,  and  when  they  had  come  to  the  room, 
hoped  that  she  was  quite  well  again.  Then  he  sat  in  a 
chair  by  the  table  and  she  took  a  seat  opposite  him.  She 
did  not  reply  to  his  wish  for  her  good  health,  but  waited 
for  him  to  speak.  She  was  not  sulky,  but  apparently 
indifferent.  Her  fret  and  fume  were  smothered  of  late. 
Now  that  the  supreme  injury  was  inflicted  and  she  had 
borne  a  child  out  of  wedlock,  Sabina's  frenzies  were  over. 
The  battle  was  lost.  Life  held  no  further  promises,  and 
the  denial  of  the  great  promise  that  it  had  offered  and 
taken  back  again,  numbed  her.  She  was  weary  of  the 
subject  of  herself  and  the  child.  She  could  even  ask  Mr. 
Churchouse  for  books  to  occupy  her  mind  during  con- 
valescence. Yet  the  slumbering  storm  in  her  soul  awoke 
in  full  fury  before  the  man  had  spoken  a  dozen  words. 

She  looked  at  Raymond  with  tired  eyes,  and  he  felt  that, 
like  himself,  she  was  older,  wiser,  different.  He  measured 
the  extent  of  her  experiences  and  felt  sorry  for  her. 

"  Sabina,"  he  said.  "  I  must  apologise  for  one  mis- 
take. When  I  asked  you  to  come  back  to  me  and  live  with 
me,  I  did  a  caddish  thing.  It  wasn't  worthy  of  me,  or 
you.  I'm  awfully  sorry.  I  forgot  myself  there." 

She  flushed. 

"Can  that  worry  you?"  she  asked.  "I  should  have 
thought,  after  what  you'd  already  done,  such  an  added 
trifle  wouldn't  have  made  you  think  twice.  To  ruin  a 
woman  body  and  soul  —  to  lie  to  her  and  steal  all  she's 
got  to  give  under  pretence  of  marriage  —  that  wasn't 
caddish,  I  suppose  —  that  wasn't  anything  to  make  you 
less  pleased  with  yourself.  That  was  what  we  may  ex- 
pect from  men  of  honour  and  right  bringing  up?  " 

"  Don't  take  this  line,  or  we  shan't  get  on.  If,  after 
certain  things  happened,  I  had  still  felt  we " 


THE  OFFER  DECLINED          285 

"  Stop,"  she  said,  "  and  hear  me.  You're  making  my 
blood  burn  and  my  fingers  itch  to  do  something.  My 
hands  are  strong  and  quick  —  they're  trained  to  be  quick. 
I  thought  I  could  come  to  this  meeting  calm  and  patient 
enough.  I  didn't  know  I'd  got  any  hate  left  in  me  —  for 
you,  or  the  world.  But  I  have  —  you've  mighty  soon 
woke  it  again;  and  I'm  not  going  to  hear  you  maul  the 
past  into  your  pattern  and  explain  everything  away  and 
tell  me  how  you  came  gradually  to  see  we  shouldn't  be 
happy  together  and  all  the  usual  dirty,  little  lies.  Tell 
yourself  falsehoods  if  you  like  —  you  needn't  waste  time 
telling  them  to  me.  I'll  tell  you  the  truth;  and  that  is 
that  you're  a  low,  mean  coward  and  bully  —  a  creature 
to  sicken  the  air  for  any  honest  man  or  woman.  And 
you  know  it  behind  your  big  talk.  What  did  you  do? 
You  seduced  me  under  promise  of  marriage,  and  when  your 
brother  heard  what  you'd  done  and  flung  you  out  of  the 
Mill,  you  ran  to  your  aunt.  And  she  said,  '  Choose  be- 
tween ruin  and  no  money,  and  Sabina  and  money  from 
me.'  And  so  you  agreed  to  marry  me  —  to  keep  your- 
self in  cash.  And  then,  when  all  was  changed  and  you 
found  yourself  a  rich  man,  you  lied  again  and  deserted  me, 
and  wronged  your  child  —  ruined  us  both.  That's  what 
you  did,  and  what  you  are." 

"  If  you  really  believe  that's  the  one  and  only  version, 
I'm  afraid  we  shan't  come  to  an  understanding,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  You  mustn't  think  so  badly  of  me  as  that, 
Sabina." 

"  Your  aunt  does.  That's  how  she  sees  it,  being  an 
honest  woman." 

"  I  must  try  to  show  you  you're  wrong  —  in  time.  For 
the  moment  I'm  only  concerned  to  do  everything  in  my 
power  to  make  your  future  secure  and  calm  your  mind." 

"  Are  you  ?  Then  marry  me.  That's  the  only  way 
you  can  make  my  future  secure,  and  you  well  know 
it." 

"  I  can't  marry  you.     I  shall  never  marry.     I  am  very 


286  THE  SPINNERS 

firmly  convinced  that  to  marry  a  woman  is  to  do  her  a 
great  injury  nine  times  out  of  ten." 

"  Worse  than  seducing  her  and  leaving  her  alone  in  the 
world  with  a  bastard  child,  I  suppose?  " 

"  You're  not  alone  in  the  world,  and  your  child  is  my 
child,  and  I  recognise  the  fullest  obligations  to  you  both." 

"  Liar !  If  you'd  recognised  your  obligations,  you 
wouldn't  have  let  it  come  into  the  world  nameless  and 
fatherless." 

She  rose. 

"  You  want  everything  your  own  way,  and  you  think 
you  can  bend  everything  to  your  own  way.  But  you'll  not 
bend  me  no  more.  You've  broke  me,  and  you've  broke 
your  child.  We're  rubbish  —  rubbish  on  the  world's  rub- 
bish heap  —  flung  there  by  you.  I,  that  was  so  proud  of 
myself !  We'll  go  to  the  grave  shamed  and  outcast  — 
failures  for  people  to  laugh  at  or  preach  over.  Your 
child's  doomed  now.  The  State  and  the  Church  both 
turn  their  backs  on  such  as  him.  You  can't  make  him 
your  lawful  son  now." 

"  I  can  do  for  him  all  any  father  can  do  for  a  son." 

"  You  shall  do  nought  for  him !  He's  part  of  me  —  not 
you.  If  you  hold  back  from  me,  you  hold  back  from  him. 
God's  my  judge  he  shan't  receive  a  crust  from  your  hands. 
You've  given  him  enough.  He's  got  you  to  thank  for  a 
ruined  life.  He  shan't  have  anything  more  from  you 
while  I  can  stand  between.  Don't  you  trouble  for  him. 
You  go  on  from  strength  to  strength  and  the  people  will 
praise  your  hard  work  and  your  goodness  to  the  workers 
—  such  a  pattern  master  as  you'll  be." 

"  May  time  make  you  feel  differently,  Sabina,"  he  an- 
swered. "  I've  deserved  this  —  all  of  it.  I'm  quite  ready 
to  grant  I've  done  wrong.  But  I'm  not  going  to  do  more 
if  I  can  help  it.  I  want  to  be  your  friend  in  the  highest 
and  worthiest  sense  possible.  I  want  to  atone  to  you  for 
the  past,  and  I  want  to  stand  up  for  your  child  through 
thick  and  thin,  and  bear  the  reproach  that  he  must  be  to 


THE  OFFER  DECLINED          287 

me  as  long  as  I  live.  I've  weighed  all  that.  But  power 
can  challenge  the  indifference  of  the  State  and  the  cow- 
ardice of  the  Church.  The  dirty  laws  will  be  blotted  out 
by  public  opinion  some  day.  The  child  can  grow  up  to 
be  my  son  and  heir,  as  he  will  be  my  first  care  and  thought. 
Everything  that  is  mine  can  be  his  and  yours " 

"  That's  all  one  now,"  she  said.  "  He  touches  nothing 
of  yours  while  I  touch  nothing  of  yours.  There's  only 
one  way  to  bring  me  and  the  child  into  your  life,  Raymond 
Ironsyde,  and  that's  by  marrying  me.  Without  that  we'll 
not  acknowledge  you.  I'd  rather  go  on  the  streets  than 
do  it.  I'd  rather  tie  a  brick  round  your  child's  neck  and 
drown  him  like  an  unwanted  dog  than  let  him  have  comfort 
from  you.  And  God  judge  me  if  I'll  depart  from  that  if 
I  live  to  be  a  hundred." 

"  You're  being  badly  advised,  Sabina.  I  never  thought 
to  hear  you  talk  like  this.  Perhaps  it's  the  fact  that  I'm 
here  myself  annoys  you.  Will  you  let  my  lawyer  see 
you?" 

"  Marry  me  —  marry  me  —  you  that  loved  me.  All 
less  than  that  is  insult." 

"  We  must  leave  it,  then.  Would  you  like  me  to  see  my 
child?" 

"  See  him!  Why?  You'll  never  see  him  if  I  can  help 
it.  You'd  blast  his  little,  trusting  eyes.  But  I  won't 
drown  him  —  you  needn't  fear  that,  ."ril  fight  for  him, 
and  find  friends  for  him.  There's  a  few  clean  people  left 
who  won't  make  him  suffer  for  your  sins.  He'll  live  to 
spit  on  your  grave  yet." 

Then  she  left  the  room,  and  he  got  up  and  went  from 
the  house. 


BOOK  II 
ESTELLE 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    FLYING    YEARS 

BUT  little  can  even  the  most  complete  biography  furnish 
of  a  man's  days.  It  is  argued  that  essentials  are  all  that 
matter,  and  that  since  one  year  is  often  like  another,  and 
life  merely  a  matter  of  occasional  mountain  peaks  in  flat 
country,  the  outstanding  events  alone  need  be  chronicled 
with  any  excuse.  But  who  knows  the  essential,  since 
biographists  must  perforce  omit  the  spade  work  of  life 
on  character,  the  gradual  attrition  or  upbuilding  of  prin- 
ciples under  experience,  and  the  strain  and  stress,  that, 
sooner  or  later,  bear  fruit  in  action?  Even  autobiog- 
raphy, as  all  other  history,  needs  must  be  incomplete, 
since  no  man  himself  exactly  appreciated  the  vital  expe- 
riences that  made  him  what  he  is,  or  turns  him  from  what 
he  was ;  while  even  if  the  secret  belongs  to  the  protagonist, 
and  intellect  and  understanding  have  enabled  him  to  grasp 
the  reality  of  his  progress,  or  retrogression,  he  will  be 
jealous  to  guard  such  truths  and,  for  pride,  or  modesty, 
conceal  the  real  fountains  of  inspiration  that  were  re- 
sponsible for  progress,  or  the  temptations  to  error  that 
found  his  weakest  spots,  blocked  his  advance,  and  rendered 
futile  his  highest  hopes.  The  man  who  knows  his  inner 
defeats  will  not  declare  them  honestly,  even  if  egotism  in- 
duces an  autobiography;  while  the  biographist,  being  ig- 
norant of  his  hero's  real,  psychological  existence,  secret 
life,  and  those  thousand  hidden  influences  that  have 
touched  him  and  caused  him  to  react,  cannot,  with  all  the 
will  in  the  world  to  be  true,  relate  more  than  superficial 
truths  concerning  him. 

Ten  years  may  only  be  recorded  as  lengthening  the  lives 

291 


THE  SPINNERS 

of  Raymond  Ironsyde,  Sabina  Dinnett  and  their  son,  to- 
gether with  those  interested  in  them.  Time,  the  supreme 
solvent,  flows  over  existence,  submerging  here,  lifting 
there,  altering  the  relative  attitudes  of  husband  and  wife, 
parent  and  child,  friend  and  enemy.  For  no  human  rela- 
tion is  static.  The  ebb  and  flow  forget  not  the  closest 
or  remotest  connection  between  members  of  the  human 
family ;  not  a  friendship  or  interest  stands  still,  and  not 
a  love  or  a  hate.  Time  operates  upon  every  human  emo- 
tion as  it  operates  upon  physical  life;  and  ten  years  left 
no  single  situation  at  Bridetown  or  Bridport  unchal- 
lenged. Death  cut  few  knots ;  since  accident  willed  that 
one  alone  fell  among  those  with  whom  we  are  concerned. 
For  the  rest,  years  brought  their  palliatives  and  corro- 
sives, soothed  here,  fretted  there;  here  buried  old  griefs 
and  healed  old  sores ;  here  calloused  troubles,  so  that  they 
only  throbbed  intermittently ;  here  built  up  new  enthusi- 
asms, awakened  new  loves,  barbed  new  enmities. 

Things  that  looked  impossible  on  the  day  that  Ironsyde 
heard  Sabina  scorn  him,  happened.  Threats  evaporated, 
danger  signals  disappeared;  but,  in  other  cases,  while  the 
jagged  edges  and  peaks  of  bitterness  and  contempt  were 
worn  away  by  a  decade  of  years,  the  solid  rocks  from 
which  they  sprang  persisted  and  the  massive  reasons  for 
emotion  were  not  moved,  albeit  their  sharpest  expressions 
vanished.  Some  loves  faded  into  likings,  and  their  rap- 
tures to  a  placid  contentment,  built  as  much  on  the  con- 
venience of  habit  as  the  memories  of  a  passionate  past; 
other  affections,  less  fortunate,  perished  and  left  nothing 
but  remains  unlovely.  Hates  also,  with  their  sharpest 
bristles  rubbed  down,  were  modified  to  bluntness,  and  left 
a  mere  lumpish  aversion  of  mind.  Some  dislikes  alto- 
gether perished  and  gave  place  to  indifference;  some  per- 
sisted as  the  shadow  of  their  former  selves ;  some  were 
kept  alive  by  absurd  pride  in  those  who  pretended,  for 
their  credit's  sake,  a  steadfastness  they  were  not  really 
built  to  feel. 


THE  FLYING  YEARS  293 

Sabina,  for  example,  was  constitutionally  unequal  to 
any  supreme  and  all-controlling  passion  unless  it  had  been 
love ;  yet  still  she  preserved  that  inimical  attitude  to  Ray- 
mond Ironsyde  she  had  promised  to  entertain;  though  in 
reality  the  fire  was  gone  and  the  ashes  cold.  She  knew 
it,  but  was  willing  to  rekindle  the  flame  if  material  offered, 
as  now  it  threatened  to  do. 

Ernest  Churchouse  had  published  his  book  upon  '  The 
Bells  of  Dorset '  and,  feeling  that  it  represented  his  life 
work,  declared  himself  content.  He  had  grown  still  less 
active,  but  found  abundant  interests  in  literature  and 
friendship.  He  undertook  the  instruction  of  Sabina's 
son  and,  from  time  to  time,  reported  upon  the  child.  His 
first  friend  was  now  Estelle  Waldron,  who,  at  this  stage  of 
her  development,  found  the  old  and  childlike  man  chime 
with  her  hopes  and  aspirations 

Estelle  was  passing  through  the  phase  not  uncommon 
to  one  of  her  nature.  For  a  time  her  early  womanhood 
found  food  in  poetry,  and  her  mind,  apparently  fashioned 
to  advance  the  world's  welfare  and  add  to  human  happi- 
ness, reposed  as  it  seemed  <on  an  interlude  of  reading  and 
the  pursuit  of  beauty.  She  developed  fast  to  a  point  — 
the  point  whereat  she  had  established  a  library  and  com- 
mon room  for  the  Mill  hands ;  the  point  at  which  the  girls 
called  her  '  Our  Lady,'  and  very  honestly  loved  her  for 
herself  as  well  as  for  the  good  she  brought  them.  Now, 
however,  her  activities  were  turned  inward  and  she  sought 
to  atone  for  an  education  incomplete.  She  had  never 
gone  to  school,  and  her  governesses,  while  able  and  suffi- 
cient, could  not  do  for  her  what  only  school  life  can  do. 
This  experience,  though  held  needless  and  doubtful  in 
many  opinions,  Estelle  felt  to  miss  and  her  conscience 
prompted  her  to  go  to  London  and  mix  with  other  people, 
while  her  inclination  tempted  her  to  stop  with  her  father. 
She  went  to  London  for  two  years  and  worked  upon  a 
woman's  newspaper.  Then  she  fell  ill  and  came  home 
and  spent  her  time  with  Arthur  Waldron,  with  Raymond 


294.  THE  SPINNERS 

Ironsyde,  and  with  Ernest  Churchouse.  A  girl  friend 
or  two  from  London  also  came  to  visit  her. 

She  recovered  perfect  health,  and  having  contracted  a 
great  new  worship  for  poetry  in  her  convalescence,  re- 
tained it  afterwards.  Ernest  was  her  ally,  for  he  loved 
poetry  —  an  understanding  denied  to  her  other  friends. 
So  Estelle  passed  through  a  period  of  dreaming,  while  her 
intellect  grew  larger  and  her  human  sympathy  no  less. 
She  had  developed  into  a  handsome  woman  with  regular 
features,  a  large  and  almost  stately  presence  and  a  direct, 
undraped  manner  not  shadowed  as  yet  by  any  ray  of  sex 
instinct.  Nature,  with  her  many  endowments,  chose  to 
withhold  the  feminine  challenge.  She  was  as  stark  and 
pure  as  the  moon.  Young  men,  drawn  by  her  smile,  fled 
from  her  self.  Her  father's  friends  regarded  her  much  as 
he  did:  with  a  sort  of  uneasy  admiration.  The  people 
were  fond  of  her,  and  older  women  declared  that  she  would 
never  marry. 

Of  such  was  Miss  Jenny  Ironsyde.  "  Estelle's  children 
will  be  good  works,"  she  told  Raymond.  For  she  and  her 
nephew  were  friends  again.  The  steady  tides  of  time  had 
washed  away  her  prophecy  of  eternal  enmity,  and  increas- 
ing infirmity  made  her  seek  companionship  where  she  could 
find  it.  Moreover,  she  remembered  a  word  that  she  had 
spoken  to  Raymond  in  the  past,  when  she  told  him  how 
a  grudge  entertained  by  one  human  being  against  another 
poisons  character  and  ruins  the  steadfast  outlook  upon 
life.  She  escaped  that  danger. 

It  is  a  quality  of  small  minds  rather  than  of  great  to 
remain  unchanged.  They  fossilise  more  quickly,  are  more 
concentrated,  have  a  power  to  freeze  into  a  mould  and 
preserve  it  against  the  teeth  of  time,  or  the  wit  and  wis- 
dom of  the  world.  The  result  is  ugly  or  beautiful,  ac- 
cording to  the  emotion  thus  for  ever  embalmed.  The 
loves  of  such  people  are  intuitive  —  shared  with  instinct 
and  above,  or  below,  reason;  their  hate  is  similarly  im- 
penetrable —  preserved  in  a  vacuum.  For  only  a  vacuum 


THE  FLYING  YEARS  295 

can  hold  the  sweet  for  ever  untainted,  or  the  bitter  for  ever 
unalloyed.  Mary  Dinnett  belonged  to  this  order.  She 
was  now  dead,  and  concerning  the  legacy  of  her  unchang- 
ing attitude  more  will  presently  appear. 

As  for  Nelly  Northover,  she  had  long  been  the  wife  of 
Mr.  Job  Legg.  That  pertinacious  man  achieved  his  end 
at  last,  and  what  his  few  enemies  declared  was  guile,  and 
his  many  friends  held  to  be  tact,  won  Nelly  to  him  a  year 
after  her  adventure  with  Mr.  Gurd.  None  congratulated 
them  more  heartily  than  the  master  of  *  The  Tiger.'  In- 
deed, when  ;  The  Seven  Stars  '  blazed  out  anew  on  an  azure 
firmament  —  the  least  of  many  changes  that  refreshed 
and  invigorated  that  famous  house  — '  The  Tiger  '  also 
shone  forth  in  savage  splendour  and  his  black  and  orange 
stripes  blazed  again  from  a  mass  of  tropical  vegetation. 

And  beneath  the  inn  signs  prosperity  continued  to  ob- 
tain. Mr.  Gurd  grew  less  energetic  than  of  yore,  while 
Mrs.  Legg  put  on  much  flesh  and  daily  perceived  her  wis- 
dom in  linking  Job  for  ever  to  the  enterprise  for  which 
she  lived.  He  became  thinner,  if  anything,  and  Time 
toiled  after  him  in  vain.  *  Immense  success  rewarded  his 
innovations,  and  the  tea-gardens  of  *  The  Seven  Stars  ' 
had  long  become  a  feature  of  Bridport's  social  life.  Peo- 
ple hinted  that  Mr.  Legg  was  not  the  meek  and  mild  spirit 
of  ancient  opinion  and  that  Nelly  knew  it;  but  this  sug- 
gestion may  be  held  no  more  than  the  penalty  of  fame  — 
an  activity  of  the  baser  sort,  who  ever  drop  vinegar  of 
detraction  into  the  oil  of  content. 

John  Best  still  reigned  at  the  Mill,  though  he  had  him- 
self already  chosen  the  young  man  destined  to  wear  his 
mantle  in  process  of  time.  To  leave  the  works  meant  to 
leave  his  garden;  and  that  he  was  unprepared  to  do  until 
failing  energies  made  it  necessary.  A  decade  saw  changes 
among  the  workers,  but  not  many.  Sally  Groves  had  re- 
tired to  braid  for  the  firm  at  home,  and  old  Mrs.  Chick 
was  also  gone ;  but  the  other  hands  remained  and  the  staff 
had  slightly  increased.  Nancy  Buckler  was  chief  spinner 


296  THE  SPINNERS 

now;  Sarah  Roberts  still  minded  the  spreader,  and  Nicho- 
las continued  at  the  lathes.  Benny  Cogle  had  a  new  Otto 
gas  engine  to  look  after,  and  Mercy  Gale,  now  married 
to  him,  still  worked  in  the  warping  chamber.  Levi  Baggs 
would  not  retire,  and  since  he  hackled  with  his  old  mas- 
ter, the  untameable  man,  now  more  than  sixty  years  old, 
still  kept  his  place,  still  flouted  the  accepted  order,  still 
read  sinister  motives  into  every  human  activity.  New 
machinery  had  increased  the  prosperity  of  the  enterprise, 
but  to  no  considerable  extent.  Competition  continued 
keen  as  ever,  and  each  year  saw  the  workers  winning 
slightly  increased  power  through  the  advance  of  labour 
interests. 

Raymond  Ironsyde  was  satisfied  and  remained  largely 
unchanged.  He  had  hardened  in  opinion  and  increased  in 
knowledge.  He  lacked  imagination  and,  as  of  old,  trusted 
to  the  machine ;  but  he  was  rational  and  proved  a  capable, 
second  class  man  of  sound  judgment  and  trustworthy  in 
all  his  undertakings.  Sport  continued  to  be  a  living  in- 
terest of  his  life,  and  since  he  had  no  ties  that  involved 
an  establishment,  he  gladly  accepted  Arthur  Waldron's 
offer  of  a  permanent  home. 

It  came  to  him  after  he  had  travelled  largely  and  been 
for  three  years  master  of  the  works.  Arthur  was  de- 
lighted when  Raymond  accepted  his  suggestion  and  made 
his  abode  at  North  Hill.  They  hunted  and  shot  together ; 
and  Waldron,  who  now  judged  that  the  time  for  golf  had 
come  in  his  case,  devoted  the  moiety  of  his  life  to  that 
pastime. 

Ironsyde  worked  hard  and  was  held  in  respect.  The 
circumstance  of  his  child  had  long  been  accepted  and  un- 
derstood. He  exhausted  his  energy  and  patience  in  en- 
deavours to  maintain  and  advance  the  boy;  and  those 
justified  in  so  doing  lost  no  opportunity  to  urge  on  Sabina 
Dinnett  the  justice  of  his  demand ;  but  here  nothing  could 
change  her.  She  refused  to  recognise  Raymond,  or  re- 
ceive from  him  any  assistance  in  the  education  and  nurture 


THE  FLYING  YEARS  297 

of  his  son.  She  had  called  him  Abel,  and  as  Abel  Dinnett 
the  lad  was  known.  He  resembled  her  in  that  he  was  dark 
and  of  an  excitable  and  uneven  temperament.  He  might 
be  easily  elated  and  as  easily  cast  down.  Raymond,  who 
kept  a  secret  eye  upon  the  child,  trusted  that  in  a  few 
years  his  turn  would  come,  though  at  present  denied.  At 
first  he  resented  the  resolution  that  shut  him  out  of  his 
son's  life;  but  the  matter  had  long  since  sunk  to  unim- 
portance and  he  believed  that  when  Abel  came  to  years  of 
understanding,  he  would  recognise  his  own  interests  and 
blame  those  responsible  for  ignoring  them  in  his  childhood. 
Upon  this  opinion  hinged  the  future  of  not  a  few  persons. 
It  developed  into  a  conviction  permanently  established  at 
the  back  of  his  mind;  but  since  Sabina  and  others  came 
between,  he  was  content  to  let  them  do  so  and  relied  upon 
his  son's  intelligence  in  time  to  come.  For  years  he  did 
not  again  seek  the  child's  acquaintance  after  a  rebuff, 
and  made  no  attempt  to  interfere  with  the  operations  of 
Abel's  grandmother  and  mother  —  to  keep  them  wholly 
apart.  Thus,  after  all,  the  gratification  of  their  purpose 
was  devoid  of  savour  an$  Ironsyde's  indifferent  acquies- 
cence robbed  their  will  of  its  triumph.  He  had  told 
Mary  Dinnett,  through  Ernest  Churchouse,  that  she  and 
her  daughter  must  proceed  as  they  thought  fit  and  that, 
in  any  case,  the  last  word  would  be  with  him.  Here,  how- 
ever, he  misvalued  the  strength  of  the  forces  arrayed 
against  him,  and  only  the  future  proved  whether  the  seed 
sowed  in  Abel  Dinnett's  youthful  heart  was  fertile  or  bar- 
ren —  whether,  by  the  blood  in  his  own  veins,  he  would 
offer  soil  of  character  to  develop  enmity  to  the  man  who 
got  him,  or  reveal  a  nature  slow  to  anger  and  impatient  of 
wrath. 

For  Ernest  Churchouse  these  problems  offered  occupa- 
tion and  he  stood  as  an  intermediary  between  the  interests 
that  clashed  in  the  child.  He  made  himself  responsible 
for  a  measure  of  the  boy's  education  and,  sometimes,  re- 
ported to  Estelle  such  development  of  character  as  he  per- 


298  THE  SPINNERS 

ceived.  In  secret,  inspired  by  the  rival  claims  of  heredity 
and  environment,  Ernest  strove  to  cast  a  scientific  horo- 
scope of  little  Abel's  probable  future.  But  to-day  con- 
tradicted yesterday,  and  to-morrow  proved  both  untrust- 
worthy. The  child  was  always  changing,  developing  new 
ideas,  indicating  new  possibilities.  It  appeared  too  soon 
yet  to  say  what  he  would  be,  or  predict  his  character  and 
force  of  purpose. 

Thus  he  grew,  and  when  he  was  eight  years  old,  his  first 
friend  and  ally  —  his  grandmother  —  died.  Mr.  Chur- 
chouse,  who  had  long  deplored  her  influence  for  Abel's 
sake,  was  hopeful  that  this  departure  might  prove  a  bless- 
ing. 

Now  Sabina  had  taken  her  mother's  place  and  she 
looked  after  Ernest  well  enough.  He  always  hoped  that 
she  would  marry,  and  she  had  been  asked  to  do  so  more 
than  once,  but  felt  tempted  to  no  such  step. 

Thus,  then,  things  stood,  and  any  change  of  focus  and 
altered  outlook  in  these  people,  that  may  serve  to  suggest 
discontinuity  with  their  past,  must  be  explained  by  the 
passage  of  ten  years.  Such  a  period  had  renewed  all 
physically  —  a  fact  full  of  subtle  connotations.  It  had 
sharpened  the  youthful  and  matured  the  adult  mind ;  it 
had  dimmed  the  senses  sinking  upon  nature's  night  time 
and  strengthened  the  dawning  will  and  opening  intellect. 
For  as  a  ship  furls  her  spread  of  sail  on  entering  harbour, 
so  age  reduces  the  scope  of  the  mind  and  its  energies  to 
catch  every  fresh  ripple  of  the  breeze  that  blows  out  of 
progress  and  change.  The  centre  of  the  stage,  too,  grad- 
ually reveals  new  performers ;  the  gaze  of  manhood  is 
turned  on  new  figures ;  the  limelight  of  human  interest 
throws  up  the  coming  forces  of  activity  and  intellect; 
while  those  who  yesterday  shone  supreme,  slowly  pass  into 
the  penumbra  that  heralds  eclipse.  And  who  bulk  big 
enough  to  arrest  the  eternal  march,  delay  their  own  prog- 
ress from  light  to  darkness,  or  stay  the  eager  young  feet 
tramping  outward  of  the  dayspring  to  take  their  places 


THE  FLYING  YEARS  299 

in  the  day?  Life  moves  so  fast  that  many  a  man  lives 
to  see  the  dust  thick  on  his  own  name  in  the  scroll  of  merit 
and  taste  a  regret  that  only  reason  can  allay. 

Fate  had  denied  Sabina  Dinnett  her  brief  apotheosis. 
From  dark  to  dark  she  had  gone ;  yet  time  had  purged  her 
mind  of  any  large  bitterness.  She  looked  on  and  watched 
Raymond's  sojourn  in  the  light  from  a  standpoint  nega- 
tive and  indifferent.  The  future  for  her  held  interest,  for 
she  could  not  cease  to  be  interested  in  him,  though  she 
knew  that  he  had  long  since  ceased  to  be  interested  in  her. 
From  the  cool  cloisters  of  her  obscurity  she  watched  and 
was  only  strong  in  opinion  at  one  point.  She  dreamed  of 
her  son  making  his  way  and  succeeding  in  the  world;  she 
welcomed  Mr.  Churchouse's  assurance  as  to  the  lad's  men- 
tal progress  and  promise ;  but  she  was  determined  as  ever 
that  not,  if  she  could  help  it,  should  Abel  enter  terms  of 
friendship  with  his  father. 

Thus  the  relations  subsisted,  while,  strange  to  record, 
in  practice  they  had  long  been  accepted  as  part  of  the 
order  of  things  at  Bridetown.  They  ceased  even  to  form 
matter  for  gossip.  For  Haymond  Ironsyde  was  greater 
here  than  the  lord  of  the  manor,  or  any  other  force.  The 
Mill  continued  to  be  the  heart  of  the  village.  Through 
the  Mill  the  lifeblood  circulated ;.  by  the  Mill  the  prosper- 
ity of  the  people  was  regulated ;  and  since  the  master  saw 
that  on  his  own  prosperity  reposed  the  prosperity  of  those 
whom  he  employed,  there  was  none  to  decry  him,  or  echo 
a  disordered  past  in  the  ear  of  the  well-ordered  present. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    SEA    GARDEN 

BRIDE  river  still  flowed  her  old  way  to  her  work  and  came, 
by  goldilocks  and  grasses,  by  reedmace  and  angelica,  to 
the  mill-race  and  water-wheel.  But  now,  where  the  old 
wheel  thundered,  there  yawned  a  gap,  for  the  river's  power 
was  about  to  be  conserved  to  better  purpose  than  of  old, 
and  as  the  new  machines  now  demanded  greater  forces  to 
drive  them,  so  human  skill  found  a  way  to  increase  the 
applied  strength  of  a  streamlet.  Against  the  outer  wall 
of  the  Mill  now  hung  a  turbine  and  Raymond,  Estelle  and 
others  had  assembled  to  see  it  in  operation  for  the  first 
time.  Bride  was  bottled  here,  and  instead  of  flashing  and 
foaming  over  the  water  wheel  as  of  yore,  now  vanished 
into  the  turbine  and  presently  appeared  again  below  it. 

Raymond  explained  the  machine  with  gusto,  and  Estelle 
mourned  the  wheel,  yet  as  one  who  knew  its  departure  was 
inevitable. 

It  was  summer  time,  and  after  John  Best  had  displayed 
the  significance  of  the  turbine  and  the  increased  powers 
generated  thereby,  Raymond  strolled  down  the  valley  be- 
side the  river  at  Estelle's  invitation. 

She  had  something  to  show  him  at  the  mouth  of  the 
stream  —  a  sea  garden,  now  in  all  its  beauty  and  precious 
to  her.  For  though  her  mind  had  winged  far  beyond 
the  joys  of  childhood  and  was  occupied  with  greater  mat- 
ters than  field  botany,  still  she  loved  the  wild  flowers  and 
welcomed  them  again  in  their  seasons. 

Their  speech  drifted  to  the  people,  and  he  told  how  some 
welcomed  the  new  appliance  and  some  doubted.  Then 
Raymond  spoke  of  Sabina  Dinnett  in  sympathetic  ears. 

For  now  Estelle  understood  the  past;  but  she  had  never 

300 


THE  SEA  GARDEN  301 

wavered  in  her  friendship  with  Sabina,  any  more  than  had 
diminished  her  sister-like  attachment  to  Raymond.  Now, 
as  often,  he  regretted  the  attitude  his  child  preserved  to- 
wards him  and  expressed  sorrow  that  he  could  not  break 
down  Abel's  distrust. 

"  More  than  distrust,  in  fact,  for  the  kid  dislikes  me," 
he  said.  "  You  know  he  does,  Chicky.  But  I  never  can 
understand  why,  because  he's  always  with  his  mother  and 
Uncle  Ernest,  and  Sabina  doesn't  bear  me  any  malice  now, 
to  my  knowledge.  Surely  the  child  must  come  round 
sooner  or  later?  " 

"  When  he's  old  enough  to  understand,  I  expect  he 
will,"  she  said.  "  But  you'll  have  to  be  patient,  Ray." 

"  Oh,  yes  —  that's  my  strong  suit  nowadays." 

"  He's  a  clever  little  chap,  so  Sabina  says ;  but  he's 
difficult  and  wayward.  He  won't  be  friends  with  me." 

Raymond  changed  the  subject  and  praised  the  valley  as 
it  opened  to  the  sea. 

"  What  a  jolly  place!  I  believe  there  are  scores  of  de- 
lightful spots  at  Bridetown  within  a  walk,  and  I'm  always 
too  busy  to  see  them."  , 

"  That's  certain.     I  could  show  you  scores." 

"  I  ought  to  know  the  place  I  live  in,  better.  I  don't 
even  know  the  soil  I  walk  on  —  awful  ignorance." 

"  The  soil  is  oolite  and  clay,  and  the  subsoil,  which  you 
see  in  the  cliffs,  is  yellow  sandstone  —  the  loveliest,  golden- 
est  soil  in  the  world,"  declared  Estelle. 

"  The  colour  of  a  bath  sponge,"  he  said,  and  she  pre- 
tended despair. 

"  Oh  dear  I  And  I  really  thought  I  had  seen  the  dawn- 
ing of  poetry  in  you,  Ray." 

"  Merely  reflected  from  yourself,  Chicky.  Still  I'm 
improving.  The  turbine  has  a  poetic  side,  don't  you 
think?" 

"  I  suppose  it  has.  Science  is  poetic  —  at  any  rate, 
the  history  of  science  is  full  of  poetry  —  if  you  know  what 
poetry  means." 


802  THE  SPINNERS 

"  I  wish  I  had  more  time  for  such  things,"  he  said. 
"  Perhaps  I  shall  have  some  day.  To  be  in  trade  is  rather 
deadening  though.  There  seems  so  little  to  show  for  all 
my  activities  —  only  hundreds  of  thousands  of  miles  of 
string.  In  weak  moments  I  sometimes  ask  myself  if,  after 
all,  it  is  good  enough." 

"  They  must  be  very  weak  moments,  indeed,"  said  Es- 
telle.  "  Perhaps  you'll  tell  me  how  the  world  could  get  on 
without  string?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  you,  with  all  your  love  of  beau- 
tiful things,  ought  to  understand  me  instead  of  jumping 
on  me.  What  is  beauty?  No  two  people  feel  the  same 
about  it,  surely?  You'd  say  a  poem  was  beautiful;  I'd 
say  a  square  cut  for  four,  just  out  of  reach  of  cover  point, 
was  beautiful.  Your  father  would  say,  a  book  on  shoot- 
ing high  pheasants  was  beautiful,  if  he  agreed  with  it; 
John  Best  would  say  a  good  sample  of  shop  twine  was 
beautiful." 

"  We  should  all  be  right,  beauty  is  in  all  those  things. 
I  can  see  that.  I  can  even  see  that  shooting  birds  with 
great  skill,  as  father  does,  is  beautiful  —  not  the  slaughter 
of  the  bird,  which  can't  be  beautiful,  but  the  way  it's  done. 
But  those  are  small  things.  With  the  workers  you  want 
to  begin  at  the  beginning  and  show  them  —  what  Mister 
Best  knows  —  that  the  beauty  of  the  thing  they  make 
depends  on  it  being  well  and  truly  made." 

"  They're  restless." 

"  Yes ;  they're  reaching  out  for  more  happiness,  like 
everybody  else." 

"  I  wouldn't  back  the  next  generation  of  capitalists  to 
hold  the  fort  against  labour." 

"  Perhaps  the  next  generation  won't  want  to,"  she  said. 
"  Perhaps  by  that  time  we  shall  be  educated  up  to  the 
idea  that  rich  people  are  quite  as  anti-social  as  poor  peo- 
ple. Then  we  shall  do  away  with  both  poverty  and  riches. 
To  us,  educated  on  the  old  values,  it  would  come  as  a 
shock,  but  the  generation  that  is  born  into  such  a  world 


THE  SEA  GARDEN  303 

would  accept  it  as  a  matter  of  course  and  not  grumble." 

He  laughed. 

"  Don't  believe  it,  Chicky.  Every  generation  has  its 
own  hawks  and  eagles  as  well  as  its  sheep.  The  strong 
will  always  want  the  fulness  of  the  earth  and  always  try 
to  inspire  the  weak  to  help  them  get  it.  With  great  lead- 
ership you  must  have  equivalent  rewards." 

"  Why?  Cannot  you  imagine  men  big  enough  to  work 
for  humanity  without  reward?  Have  there  not  been 
plenty  of  such  men  —  before  Christ,  as  well  as  since  ?  " 

"  Power  is  reward,"  he  answered.  "  No  man  is  so  great 
that  he  is  indifferent  to  power,  for  his  greatness  depends 
upon  it;  and  if  power  was  dissipated  to-morrow  and  di- 
luted until  none  could  call  himself  a  leader,  we  should  have 
a  reaction  at  once  and  the  sheep  would  grow  frightened 
and  bleat  for  a  shepherd.  And  the  shepherd  would  very 
soon  appear." 

They  stood  where  the  cliffs  broke  and  Bride  ended  her 
journey  at  the  sea.  She  came  gently  without  any  splen- 
did nuptials  to  the  lover  of  rivers.  Her  brief  course  run, 
her  last  silver  loop  wound  through  the  meadows,  she  ended 
in  a  placid  pool  amid  the  sand  ridges  above  high-water 
mark.  The  yellow  cliffs  climbed  up  again  on  either  side, 
and  near  the  chalice  in  the  grey  beach  whence,  invisible, 
the  river  sank  away  to  win  the  sea  by  stealth,  spread  Es- 
telle's  sea  garden  —  an  expanse  of  stone  and  sand  enriched 
by  many  flowers  that  seemed  to  crown  the  river  pool  with 
a  garland,  or  weave  a  wreath  for  Bride's  grave  in  the 
sand.  Here  were  pale  gold  of  poppies,  red  gold  of  lotus 
and  rich  lichens  that  made  the  sea-worn  pebbles  shine. 
Sea  thistle  spread  glaucous  foliage  and  lifted  its  blue  blos- 
soms ;  stone-crops  and  thrifts,  tiny  trefoils  and  couch 
grasses  were  woven  into  the  sand,  and  pink  storks-bill  and 
silvery  convolvulus  brought  cool  colour  to  this  harmony 
spread  beside  the  purple  sea.  The  day  was  one  of  shadow 
and  sunshine  mingled,  and  from  time  to  time,  through 
passages  of  grey  that  lowered  the  glory  of  Estelle's  sea 


304.  THE  SPINNERS 

garden,  a  sunburst  came  to  set  all  glittering  once  more, 
to  flash  upon  the  river,  lighten  the  masses  of  distant  elm, 
and  throw  up  the  red  roofs  and  grey  church  tower  of 
Bridetown  and  her  encircling  hills. 

"  What  a  jolly  place  it  is,"  he  said  taking  out  his  cigar 
case. 

Then  they  sat  in  the  shadow  of  a  fishing  boat,  drawn  up 
here,  and  Raymond  lamented  the  unlovely  end  of  the  river. 

While  he  did  so,  the  girl  regarded  him  with  affection 
and  a  secret  interest  and  entertainment.  For  it  amused 
her  often  to  hear  him  echo  thoughts  that  had  come  to  her 
in  the  past.  In  a  lesser  degree  her  father  did  the  like; 
but  he  belonged  to  a  still  older  generation,  and  it  was 
with  Raymond  that  she  found  herself  chiefly  concerned, 
when  he  announced,  as  original,  ideas  and  discoveries  that 
reflected  her  own  dreams  in  the  past.  Sometimes  she 
thought  he  was  catching  up;  sometimes,  again,  she  dis- 
tanced him  and  felt  herself  grown  up  and  Raymond  still 
a  boy.  Then,  sometimes,  he  would  flush  a  covey  of  ideas 
outside  her  reflections,  and  so  remind  her  of  the  things 
that  interested  men,  in  which,  as  yet,  women  took  no  inter- 
est. When  he  spoke  of  such  things,  she  strove  to  learn 
all  that  he  could  teach  concerning  them.  But  soon  she 
found  that  was  not  much.  He  did  not  think  deeply  and 
she  quickly  caught  him  up,  if  she  desired  to  do  so. 

Now  he  uttered  just  the  same,  trivial  lament  that  she 
had  uttered  when  she  was  a  child.  She  was  pleased,  for 
she  rather  loved  to  feel  herself  older  in  mind  than  Ray- 
mond. It  added  a  lustre  to  friendship  and  made  her 
happy  —  why,  she  knew  not. 

66  What  a  wretched  end  —  to  be  choked  up  in  the  shin- 
gle like  that,"  he  said,  "  instead  of  dashing  out  gloriously 
and  losing  yourself  in  the  sea !  " 

She  smiled  gently  to  herself. 

"  I  thought  that  once,  then  I  was  ever  so  sorry  for  poor 
little  Bride." 

"  A  bride  without  a  wedding,"  he  said. 


THE  SEA  GARDEN  305 

"  No.  She  steals  to  him ;  she  wins  his  salt  kisses  and 
finds  them  sweet  enough.  They  mate  down  deep  out  of 
sight  of  all  eyes.  So  you  needn't  be  sorry  for  her  really." 

"  It's  like  watching  people  try  ever  so  hard  to  do  some- 
thing and  never  bring  it  off." 

"  Yes  —  even  more  like  than  you  think,  Ray ;  because 
we  feel  sad  at  such  apparent  failures,  and  yet  what  we 
are  looking  at  may  be  a  victory  really,  only  our  dull  eyes 
miss  it." 

"  I  daresay  many  people  are  succeeding  who  don't  ap- 
pear to  be,"  he  admitted. 

"  Goodness  can't  be  wasted.  It  may  be  poured  into  the 
sand  all  unseen  and  unsung;  but  it  conquers  somehow  and 
does  something  worth  doing,  even  though  no  eye  can  see 
what.  Plenty  of  good  things  happen  in  the  world  —  good 
and  helpful  things  —  that  are  never  recorded,  or  even 
recognised." 

"  Like  a  stonewaller  in  a  cricket  match.  The  people 
cuss  him,  but  he  may  determine  who  is  going  to  win." 

She  laughed  at  the  simile. 

They  went  homeward*  presently,  Estelle  quietly  content 
to  have  shown  Raymond  the  flower-sprinkled  strand,  and 
he  well  pleased  to  have  pleasured  her. 


CHAPTER  III 

A    TWIST    FRAME 

RAYMOND  IRONSYDE  grumbled  sometimes  at  the  Factory 
Act  and  protested  against  grandmotherly  legislation. 
Yet  in  some  directions  he  anticipated  it.  He  went,  for  ex- 
ample, beyond  the  Flax  Mill  Ventilation  Regulations.  He 
loved  fresh  air  himself,  and  took  vast  pains  to  make  his 
works  sweet  and  wholesome  for  those  who  breathed  therein. 
Even  Levi  Baggs  could  not  grumble,  for  the  exhaust 
draught  in  his  hackling  shop  was  stronger  than  the  law 
demanded,  and  the  new  cyclone  separators  in  the  main 
buildings  served  to  keep  the  air  far  purer  than  of  old. 

Ironsyde  had  established  also  the  Kestner  System  of 
atomising  water,  to  regulate  temperature  and  counteract 
the  electrical  effects  of  east  wind,  or  frost,  on  the  light 
slivers.  He  was  always  on  the  lookout  for  new  auto- 
matic means  to  regulate  the  drags  on  the  bobbins.  He 
had  installed  an  automatic  doffing  apparatus,  and  made 
a  departure  from  the  usual  dry  spinning  in  a  demi-sec, 
or  half-dry,  spinning  frame,  which  was  new  at  that  time, 
and  had  offered  excellent  results  and  spun  a  beautifully 
smooth  yarn. 

These  things  all  served  to  assist  and  relieve  the  workers 
in  varying  degree,  but,  as  Raymond  often  pointed  out, 
they  were  taken  for  granted  and,  sometimes,  in  his  gloom- 
ier moments,  he  accused  his  people  of  lacking  gratitude. 
They,  for  their  part,  were  being  gradually  caught  up  in 
the  growing  movements  of  labour.  The  unintelligent  for- 
got to  credit  the  master  with  his  consideration ;  while  those 
who  could  think,  were  often  soured  by  suspicion.  These 

ignorant  spirits  doubted  not  that  he  was  seeking  to  win 

306 


A  TWIST  FRAME  307 

their  friendship  against  the  rainy  days  in  store  for  capi- 
tal. 

Ironsyde  came  to  the  works  one  morning  to  watch  a 
new  Twist  Frame  and  a  new  operator.  The  single  strand 
yarn  for  material  from  the  spinners  was  coming  to  the 
Twist  Frame  to  be  turned  into  twines  and  fishing  lines. 
Four  full  bobbins  from  the  spinning  machine  went  to  each 
spindle  of  the  Twist  Frame,  and  from  it  emerged  a  strong 
4  four-ply.'  It  was  a  machine  more  complicated  than  the 
spinner;  and,  as  only  a  good  billiard  player  can  appre- 
ciate the  cleverness  of  a  great  player,  so  only  a  spinner 
might  have  admired  the  rare  technical  skill  of  the  woman 
who  controlled  the  Twist  Frame. 

The  soul  of  the  works  persisted,  though  the  people  and 
the  machines  were  changed.  The  old  photographs  and 
old  verses  had  gone,  but  new  pictures  and  poems  took  their 
places  in  the  workers'  corners;  and  new  fashion-plates 
hung  where  the  old  ones  used  to  hang.  The  drawers,  and 
the  rovers,  the  spreaders  and  the  spinners  still,  like  bower- 
birds,  adorned  the  scenes  of  their  toil.  A  valentine  or  two 
and  the  portrait  of  a  gamekeeper  and  his  dog  hung  beside 
the  carding  machine;  for  Sally  Groves  had  retired  and  a 
younger  woman  was  in  her  place.  She,  too,  fed  the  Card 
by  hand,  but  not  so  perfectly  as  Sally  was  wont  to  do. 

Estelle  had  come  to  see  the  Twist  Frame.  She  cared 
much  for  the  Mill  women  and  spent  a  good  portion  of  her 
hours  with  them.  A  very  genuine  friendship,  little  tainted 
with  time-serving,  or  self-interest,  obtained  for  her  in  the 
works.  On  her  side,  she  valued  the  goodwill  of  the  work- 
ers as  her  best  possession,  and  found  among  them  a  field 
for  study  in  human  nature  and,  in  their  work,  matter  for 
poetry  and  art.  For  were  not  all  three  Fates  to  be  seen 
at  their  eternal  business  here?  Clotho  attended  the 
Spread  Board ;  the  can-minders  coiling  away  the  sliver, 
stood  for  Lachesis ;  while  in  the  spinners,  who  cut  the 
thread  when  the  bobbin  was  full,  Estelle  found  Atropos, 
the  goddess  of  the  shears. 


308  THE  SPINNERS 

Mr.  Best,  grown  grizzled,  but  active  still  and  with  no 
immediate  thoughts  of  retirement,  observed  the  operations 
of  the  new  spinner  at  the  Twist  Frame.  She  was  a  woman 
from  Bridport,  lured  to  Bridetown  by  increase  of  wages. 

John,  who  was  a  man  of  enthusiasms,  turned  to  Estelle. 

"  The  best  spinner  that  ever  came  to  Bridetown,"  he 
whispered. 

"Better  than  Sabina  Dinnett?  "  she  asked;  and  Best 
declared  that  she  was.  So  passage  of  time  soon  deadens 
the  outline  of  all  achievement,  and  living  events  that  hap- 
pen under  our  eyes,  offer  a  statement  of  the  quick  and  real 
with  which  beautiful  dead  things,  embalmed  in  the  amber 
of  memory,  cannot  cope. 

"  Sabina,  at  her  best,  never  touched  her,  Miss  Waldron." 

"  Sabina  braids  still  in  her  spare  time.  Nobody  makes 
better  nets." 

"  This  is  a  cousin  of  Sarah  Roberts,"  explained  the 
foreman.  "  Spinning  runs  in  the  Northover  family,  and 
though  Sarah  is  a  spreader  and  never  will  be  anything 
else,  there  have  been  wondrous  good  spinners  in  the  clan. 
This  girl  is  called  Milly  Morton,  and  her  mother  and 
grandmother  spun  before  her.  Her  father  was  Jack 
Morton,  one  of  the  last  of  the  old  hand  spinners.  To 
see  him  walking  backwards  from  his  wheel,  and  paying  out 
fibre  from  his  waist  with  one  hand  and  holding  up  the 
yarn  with  the  other,  was  a  very  good  sight.  He'd  spin 
very  nearly  a  hundred  pounds  of  hemp  in  a  ten  hours'  day, 
and  turn  out  seven  or  eight  miles  of  yarn,  and  walk  every 
yard  of  it,  of  course.  The  rope  makers  swore  by  him." 

"  I'm  sure  spinning  runs  in  the  blood !  "  agreed  Estelle. 
"  Both  Sarah's  little  girls  are  longing  for  the  time  when 
they  can  come  into  the  Mill  and  mind  cans ;  and,  of  course, 
the  boy  wants  to  do  his  father's  work  and  be  a  lathe 
hand." 

Best  nodded. 

"  You've  hit  it,"  he  declared.  "  It  runs  in  the  blood  in 
a  very  strange  fashion.  Take  Sabina's  child.  By  all 


A  TWIST  FRAME  309 

accounts,  his  old  grandmother  did  everything  in  her  power 
to  poison  his  mind  against  the  Mill  as  well  as  the  master. 
She  was  a  lot  bitterer  than  Sabina  herself,  as  the  years 
went  on ;  and  if  you  could  look  back  and  uncover  the  past, 
you'd  find  it  was  her  secret  work  to  make  that  child  what 
he  is.  But  the  Mill  draws  him  like  cheese  draws  a  mouse. 
I'll  find  him  here  a  dozen  times  in  a  month  —  just  popping 
in  when  my  back's  turned.  Why  he  comes  I  couldn't  say ; 
but  I  think  it  is  because  his  mother  was  a  spinner  and  the 
feeling  for  the  craft  is  in  him." 

"  His  father  is  a  spinner,  too,  for  that  matter,"  sug- 
gested Estelle. 

"  In  the  larger  sense  of  ownership,  yes ;  but  it  isn't  that 
that  draws  him.  His  father's  got  no  great  part  in  him 
by  all  accounts.  It's  the  mother  in  him  that  brings  him 
here.  Not  that  she  knows  he  comes  so  often,  and  I  dare 
say  she'd  be  a  good  deal  put  about  if  she  did." 

"  Why  shouldn't  he  come,  John  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shouders. 

"  I  see  no  reason  against.  One  gets  so  used  to  the  situ- 
ation that  its  strangeness  passes  off,  but  it's  very  awk- 
ward, so  to  say,  that  ziothing  can  be  done  for  Abel  by  his 
father.  Sabina's  wrong  to  hold  out  there,  and  so  I've 
told  her." 

"  She  doesn't  influence  Abel  one  way  or  the  other.  The 
child  seems  to  hate  Mister  Ironsyde." 

"  Well,  he  loves  the  Mill,  though  you'd  think  he  might 
hate  that  for  his  father's  sake." 

"  He's  hard  for  a  little  creature  of  ten  years  old,"  said 
Estelle.  "  He  won't  make  friends  with  me,  but  holds  off 
and  regards  me  —  just  as  rabbits  and  things  regard  one, 
before  they  finally  run  away.  I  pretend  I  don't  notice  it. 
He'll  listen  and  even  talk  if  I  meet  him  with  his  mother; 
but  if  I  meet  him  alone,  he  flies.  He  generally  bolts 
through  a  hole  in  the  hedge,  or  somewhere." 

"  He  links  you  up  with  Mister  Raymond,"  explained 
Mr.  Best.  "  He  knows  you  live  at  North  Hill  House, 


310  THE  SPINNERS 

and  so  he's  suspicious.  You  can  disarm  him,  however,  for 
he's  got  reasoning  parts  quite  up  to  the  average  if  not 
above.  He's  the  sort  of  boy  that  if  you  don't  want  him 
to  steal  your  apples,  you've  only  got  to  give  him  a  few 
now  and  then ;  and  then  he  rises  to  the  situation  and  feels 
in  honour  bound  to  be  straight,  because  you've  lifted  him 
to  be  your  equal." 

"  I  call  that  a  very  good  character." 

"  It  might  be  a  lot  worse,  no  doubt." 

"  I  wanted  him  to  come  to  our  outing,  but  he  won't  do 
that,  though  his  mother  asked  him  to  go." 

The  outing,  an  annual  whole  holiday,  was  won  for  the 
Mill  by  Estelle,  and  for  the  past  four  years  she  had  taken 
all  who  cared  to  come  for  a  long  day  by  the  sea.  They 
always  went  to  Weymouth,  where  amusement  offered  to 
suit  every  taste. 

"  More  than  ever  are  coming  this  year,"  John  told  her. 
"  In  fact,  I  believe  pretty  well  everybody's  going  but  Levi 
Baggs." 

"  I'm  glad.  We'll  have  the  two  wagonettes  from  '  The 
Seven  Stars  '  as  usual.  If  you  are  going  into  Bridport 
you  might  tell  Missis  Legg." 

"  The  two  big  ones  we  shall  want,  and  they  must  be  here 
sharp  at  six  o'clock,"  declared  Mr.  Best.  "  There's  noth- 
ing like  getting  off  early.  I'll  speak  to  Job  Legg  about  it 
and  tell  him  to  start  'em  off  earlier.  You  can  trust  it  to 
Job  as  to  the  wagonettes  being  opened  or  covered.  He's 
a  very  weather-wise  person  and  always  smells  rain  twelve 
hours  in  advance." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    BED    HAND 

THE  Mill  had  a  fascination  for  all  Bridetown  children  and 
they  would  trespass  boldly  and  brave  all  perils  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  machinery.  The  thunder  of  the  engines 
drew  them,  and  there  were  all  manner  of  interesting  frag- 
ments to  be  picked  up  round  and  about.  That  they  were 
not  permitted  within  the  radius  of  the  works  was  also  a 
sound  reason  for  being  there,  and  many  boys  could  tell 
of  great  adventures  and  hairbreadth  escapes  from  Mr. 
Best,  Mr.  Benny  Cogle  and,  above  all,  Mr.  Baggs.  For 
Mr.  Baggs,  to  the  mind  of  youth,  exhibited  ogre-like  quali- 
ties. They  knew  him  as  a  deadly  enemy,  for  which  rea- 
son there  was  no  part  of  the  works  that  possessed  a 
greater  or  more  horrid  fascination  than  the  hackling  shop. 
To  have  entered  the  den  of  Mr.  Baggs  marked  a  Bride- 
town  lad  as  worthy  of*  highest  respect  in  his  circle.  But 
proofs  were  always  demanded  of  such  a  high  achievement. 
When  Levi  caught  the  adventurer,  as  sometimes  happened, 
proofs  were  invariably  apparent  and  a  posterior  evidence 
never  lacked  of  a  reverse  for  the  offensive ;  but  youth  will 
be  served,  even  though  age  sometimes  serves  it  rather 
harshly,  and  the  boys  were  untiring.  Unless  Levi  locked 
the  shop,  when  he  went  home  at  noon  to  dinner,  there  was 
always  the  chance  of  a  raid  with  a  strick  or  two  possibly 
missing  as  proof  of  success. 

Sabina  had  told  Abel  that  he  must  keep  away  from  the 
works,  but  he  ignored  her  direction  and  often  revolved 
about  them  at  moments  of  liberty.  He  was  a  past  mas- 
ter in  the  art  of  scouting  and  evading  danger,  yet  loved 

danger,  and  the  Mill  offered  him  daily  possibilities  of  both 

311 


312  THE  SPINNERS 

courting  and  escaping  peril.  Together  with  other  little 
boys  nourished  on  a  penny  journal,  Abel  had  joined  the 
6  Band  of  the  Red  Hand.'  They  did  no  harm,  but  hoped 
some  day,  when  they  grew  older,  to  make  a  more  painful 
impression  on  Bridetown.  At  present  their  modest  ambi- 
tion was  to  leave  the  mark  of  their  secret  society  in  every 
unexpected  spot  possible.  On  private  walls,  in  church 
and  chapel,  or  the  house-places  of  the  farms,  it  was  their1 
joy  to  write  with  chalk,  *  The  Red  Hand  has  been  here.' 
Then  followed  a  circle  and  a  cross  —  the  dark  symbol  of 
the  brotherhood.  Once  a  former  chief  of  the  gang  had 
left  his  mark  in  the  hackling  shop  and  more  than  one  mem- 
ber had  similarly  adorned  the  interior  of  the  Mill ;  but  the 
old  chief  had  gone  to  sea  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and, 
though  younger  than  some  of  the  present  members,  Abel 
was  now  appointed  leader  and  always  felt  the  demand  to 
attempt  things  that  should  be  worthy  of  so  high  a  state. 

They  were  not  the  everyday  boys  who  thus  combined, 
but  a  sort  of  child  less  common,  yet  not  uncommon.  Such 
lads  scent  one  another  out  by  parity  of  taste  and  care 
less  for  gregarious  games  than  isolated  or  lonely  adven- 
tures. They  would  rather  go  trespassing  than  play 
cricket ;  they  would  organise  a  secret  raid  before  a  public 
pastime.  Intuitively  they  desire  romance,  and  feeling 
that  law  and  order  is  opposed  to  romance,  find  the  need 
to  flout  law  and  order  in  measure  of  their  strength,  and, 
of  course,  applaud  the  successful  companion  who  does  so 
with  most  complete  results. 

Now  '  the  old  Adam  ' —  a  comprehensive  term  for  inde- 
pendence of  view  and  unpreparedness  to  accept  the  tried 
values  of  pastors  and  masters  —  was  strong  in  Abel  Din- 
nett.  He  loved  life,  but  hated  discipline,  and  for  him  the 
Mill  possessed  far  more  significance  than  it  could  offer 
to  any  lesser  member  of  the  band,  since  his  father  owned  it. 
For  that  much  Abel  apprehended,  though  the  meaning  of 
paternity  was  as  yet  hidden  from  him. 

That  Raymond  Tronsyde  was  his  father  he  understood, 


THE  RED  HAND  313 

and  that  he  must  hate  him  heartily  he  also  understood: 
his  dead  grandmother  had  poured  this  precept  into  his 
young  mind  at  its  most  receptive  period.  For  the  present 
he  was  still  too  youthful  to  rise  beyond  this  general 
principle,  and  he  was  far  too  busy  with  his  own  adven- 
tures to  find  leisure  to  hate  any  one  more  than  fitfully. 
He  told  the  Red  Handers  that  some  day  he  designed  a 
terrific  attack  on  Raymond  Ironsyde;  and  they  promised 
to  assist  and  support  him;  but  they  all  recognised  their 
greater  manifestations  must  be  left  until  they  attained 
more  weight  in  the  cosmic  and  social  schemes,  and,  for 
the  moment,  their  endeavour  rose  little  higher  than  to  set 
their  fatal  sign  where  least  it  might  be  expected. 

To  this  end  came  dark-eyed  Abel  to  the  Mill  at  an  hour 
when  he  should  have  been  at  his  dinner.  Ere  long  his 
activities  might  be  curtailed,  for  he  was  threatened  with  a 
preparatory  school  in  the  autumn ;  but  before  that  hap- 
pened, the  Red  Hand  must  be  set  in  certain  high  places, 
and  the  hackling  shop  of  Levi  Baggs  was  first  among  them. 

Abel  wore  knickerbockers  and  his  feet  and  legs  were 
bare,  for  he  had  just  waded  across  the  river  beyond  the 
Mill,  and  meant  to  retreat  by  the  same  road.  He  had 
hidden  in  a  may  bush  till  the  people  were  all  gone  to  their 
meal,  and  then  crossed  the  stream  into  the  works.  That 
the  door  of  the  hackler's  would  be  open  he  did  not  expect, 
for  Levi  locked  it  when  he  went  home ;  but  there  was  a  little 
window,  and  Abel,  who  had  a  theory  that  where  his  head 
could  go,  his  body  could  follow,  believed  that  by  the  win- 
dow it  would  be  possible  to  make  his  entrance.  The 
contrary  of  what  he  expected  happened,  however,  for  the 
window  was  shut  and  the  door  on  the  latch.  Fate  willed 
that  on  the  very  day  of  Abel's  attack,  Mr.  Baggs  should 
be  spending  the  dinner-hour  in  his  shop.  His  sister,  who 
looked  after  him,  was  from  home  until  the  evening,  and 
Levi  had  brought  his  dinner  to  the  works.  He  was  eat- 
ing it  when  the  boy  very  cautiously  opened  the  door,  and 
since  Mr.  Baggs  sat  exactly  behind  the  door,  this  action 


314  THE  SPINNERS 

served  to  conceal  him.  The  intruder  therefore  thought 
the  place  empty,  and  proceeded  with  his  operations  while 
Levi  made  no  sound,  but  watched  him. 

Taking  a  piece  of  chalk  from  his  pocket  Abel  wrote  the 
words  of  terror,  '  The  Red  Hand  has  been  here,'  and  set 
down  the  circle  and  cross.  Then  he  picked  up  one  of  the 
bright  stricks,  that  lay  beside  the  hackling  board,  and 
was  just  about  to  depart  in  triumph,  when  Mr.  Baggs 
banged  the  door  and  revealed  himself. 

Thus  discomfited,  Abel  grew  pale  and  then  flushed. 
Mr.  Baggs  was  a  very  big  and  strong  man  and  the  culprit 
knew  that  he  must  now  prepare  for  the  pangs  that  at- 
tended failure.  But  he  bore  pain  well.  He  had  been 
operated  upon  for  faulty  tendons  when  he  was  five  and 
proved  a  Spartan  patient.  He  stood  now  waiting  for 
Mr.  Baggs.  Other  victims  had  reported  that  it  was 
Levi's  custom  to  use  a  strap  from  his  own  waist  when  he 
beat  a  boy,  and  Abel,  even  at  this  tense  moment,  wondered 
whether  he  would  now  do  so. 

"It's  you,  is  it?"  said  Mr.  Baggs.  "And  the  Red 
Hand  has  been  here,  has  it?  And  perhaps  the  red  some- 
thing else  will  go  away  from  here.  You're  a  darned  young 
thief  —  that's  what  you  are." 

"  I  ain't  yet,"  argued  Abel.  His  voice  fluttered,  for 
his  heart  was  beating  very  fast. 

"  You're  as  good,  however,  for  you  was  going  to  take 
my  strick.  The  will  was  there,  though  I  prevented  the 
deed." 

"  I  had  to  show  the  Band  as  I'd  been  here." 

"  Why  did  you  come  ?     What  sense  is  there  to  it  ?  " 

Abel  regarded  Mr.  Baggs  doubtfully  and  did  not  reply. 

"  Just  to  show  you're  a  bit  out  of  the  common,  per- 
haps? " 

Abel  clutched  at  the  suggestion.  His  eyes  looked  side- 
ways slyly  at  Mr.  Baggs.  The  ogre  seemed  inclined  to 
talk,  and  through  speech  might  come  salvation,  for  he  had 
acted  rather  than  talked  on  previous  occasions. 


THE  RED  HAND  315 

"  We  want  to  be  different  from  common  boys,"  said  the 
marauder. 

"  Well,  you  are,  for  one,  and  there's  no  need  to  trouble 
in  your  case.  You  was  born  different,  and  different 
you've  got  to  be.  I  suppose  you've  been  told  often  enough 
who  your  father  is  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

"  Small  wonder  then  that  you've  got  your  knife  into  the 
world  at  large,  I  reckon.  What  thinking  man,  or  boy, 
has  not  for  that  matter?  So  you're  up  against  the  laws 
and  out  for  the  liberties?  Well,  I  don't  quarrel  with  that. 
Only  you're  too  young  yet  to  understand  what  a  lot  you've 
got  to  grumble  at.  Some  day  you  will." 

Abel  said  nothing.  He  hardly  listened,  and  thought 
far  less  of  what  Mr.  Baggs  was  saying  than  of  what  he 
himself  would  say  to  his  companions  after  this  great  ad- 
venture. To  make  friends  with  the  ogre  was  no  mean 
feat,  even  for  a  member  of  the  Red  Hand. 

What  motiveless  malignity  actuated  Levi  Baggs  mean- 
while, who  can  say?  He  was  now  a  man  in  sight  of  sev- 
enty, yet  his  crabbed  soul  would  exude  gall  under  pressure 
as  of  yore.  None  was  ever  cheered  or  heartened  by  any- 
thing he  might  say ;  but  to  cast  a  neighbour  down,  or 
make  a  confident  and  contented  man  doubtful  and  discon- 
tented, affected  Mr.  Baggs  favourably  and  rendered  him 
as  cheerful  as  his  chronic  pessimism  ever  permitted  him 
to  be. 

He  bade  the  child  sit  and  gave  him  his  portion  of  cur- 
rant dumpling. 

"  Put  that  down  your  neck,"  he  said,  "  and  don't  you 
think  so  bad  of  me  in  future.  I  treat  other  people  same 
as  they  treat  me,  and  that's  a  rule  that  works  out  pretty 
fair  in  practice,  if  you've  got  the  power  to  follow  it.  But 
some  folks  are  too  weak  to  treat  other  people  as  they  are 
treated  —  you,  for  example.  You're  one  of  the  unlucky 
ones,  you  are,  Abel  Dinnett." 

Abel  enjoyed   the  pudding;   and   still  his   mind  dwelt 


316  THE  SPINNERS 

more  on  future  narration  of  this  great  incident  than  on  the 
incident  itself.  With  unconscious  art,  he  felt  that  the 
moment  when  this  tale  was  told,  would  be  far  greater  for 
him  than  the  moment  when  it  happened. 

"  I  ain't  unlucky,  Mister  Baggs.  I  would  have  been 
unlucky  if  you'd  beat  me;  but  you've  give  me  your  pud- 
ding, and  I'm  on  your  side  till  death  now." 

"  Well,  that's  something.  I  ain't  got  many  my  side, 
I  believe.  The  fearless  thinker  never  has.  You  can  come 
and  see  me  when  you  mind  to,  because  I'm  sorry  for  you, 
owing  to  your  bad  fortune.  You've  been  handicapped 
out  of  winning  the  race,  Abel.  You  know  what  a  handi- 
cap is  in  a  race?  Well,  you  won't  have  no  chance  of  win- 
ning now,  because  your  father  won't  own  you." 

"  I  won't  own  him,"  said  the  boy.  "  Granny  always 
told  me  he  was  my  bitterest  enemy,  and  she  knew,  and  I 
won't  trust  him  —  never." 

"  I  should  think  not  —  nor  any  other  wise  chap 
wouldn't  trust  him.  He's  a  bad  lot.  He  only  believes  in 
machines,  not  humans." 

The  boy  began  to  be  receptive. 

"  He  wants  to  be  friends,  but  I  won't  be  his  friend, 
because  I  hate  him.  Only  I  don't  tell  mother,  because  she 
don't  hate  him  so  much  as  me." 

"  More  fool  her,  then.  She  ought  to  hate  him.  She's 
got  first  cause.  Do  you  know  who  ought  to  own  these 
works  when  your  father  dies  ?  " 

"  No,  Mister  Baggs." 

"  You.  Yes,  they  did  ought  to  belong  to  you  in  jus- 
tice, because  you  are  his  eldest  son.  Everything  ought 
to  be  yours,  if  the  world  were  run  by  right  and  fairness 
and  honour.  But  it's  all  took  from  you  and  you  can't 
lift  a  finger  to  better  yourself,  because  you're  only  his 
natural  son,  and  Nature  may  go  to  hell  every  time  for 
all  the  Law  and  the  Church  care.  Church  and  Law  both 
hate  Nature.  So  that's  why  I  say  you're  an  unlucky 
boy;  and  that's  why  I  say  that,  despite  your  father's 


THE  RED  HAND  317 

money  and  fame  and  being  popular  and  well  thought  on 
and  all  that,  he's  a  cruel  rogue." 

Abel  was  puzzled  but  interested. 

"  If  I'm  his  boy,  why  ain't  my  mother  his  wife,  like  all 
the  other  chaps'  fathers  have  got  wives  ?  " 

"  Why  ain't  your  mother  his  wife?  Yes,  why?  After 
ten  years  he'll  find  that  question  as  hard  to  answer  as  it 
was  before  you  were  born,  I  reckon.  And  the  answer  to 
the  question  is  the  same  as  the  answer  to  many  questions 
about  Raymond  Ironsyde.  And  that  is,  that  he  is  a 
crooked  man  who  pretends  to  be  a  straight  one ;  in  a  word, 
a  hypocrite.  And  you'll  grow  up  to  understand  these 
things  and  see  what  should  be  yours  taken  from  you  and 
given  to  other  pople." 

"  When  I  grow  up,  I'll  have  it  out  with  him,"  said 
Abel. 

"  No,  you  won't.  Because  he's  strong  and  you're  weak. 
You're  weak  and  poor  and  nobody,  with  no  father  to  fight 
for  you  and  give  you  a  show  in  the  world.  And  you'll  al- 
ways be  the  same,  so  you'll  never  stand  any  chance  against 
him." 

The  boy  flushed  and  showed  anger. 

"  I  won't  be  weak  and  poor  always." 

"  Against  him  you  will.  Suppose  you  went  so  far  as  to 
let  him  befriend  you,  could  he  ever  make  up  for  not  marry- 
ing your  mother?  Can  he  ever  make  you  anything  but  a 
bastard  and  an  outcast?  No,  he  can't ;  and  he  only  wants 
to  educate  you  and  give  you  a  bit  of  money  and  decent 
clothes  for  the  sake  of  his  own  conscience.  He'll  come  to 
you  hat  in  hand  some  day  —  not  because  he  cares  a  damn 
for  you,  but  that  he  may  stand  well  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world." 

Abel  now  panted  with  anger,  and  Mr.  Baggs  was  mildly 
amused  to  see  how  easily  the  child  could  be  played  upon. 

"  I'll  grow  up  and  then " 

"  Don't  you  worry.  You  must  take  life  as  you  find  it, 
and  as  you  haven't  found  it  a  very  kind  thing,  you  must 


318  THE  SPINNERS 

put  up  with  it.  Most  people  draw  blanks,  and  that's  why 
it's  better  to  stop  out  of  the  world  than  in  it.  And  if 
we  could  see  into  the  bottom  of  every  heart,  we  should 
very  likely  find  that  all  draw  blanks,  and  even  what  looks 
like  prizes  are  not." 

Levi  laughed  after  this  sweeping  announcement.  It 
appeared  to  put  him  in  a  good  temper.  He  even  relaxed 
in  the  gravity  of  his  prophecies. 

"  However,  life  is  on  the  side  of  youth,"  he  said,  "  and 
you  may  come  to  the  front  some  day,  if  you've  got  enough 
brains.  Brains  is  the  only  thing  that'll  save  you.  Your 
mother's  clever  and  your  father's  crafty,  so  perhaps  you'll 
go  one  better  than  either.  Perhaps,  some  day,  if  you  wait 
long  enough,  you'll  get  back  on  your  father,  after  all." 

"  I  will  wait  long  enough,"  declared  Abel.  "  I  don't 
care  how  long  I  wait,  but  I'll  best  him,  Mister  Baggs." 

"  You  keep  in  that  righteous  spirit  and  you'll  breed  a 
bit  of  trouble  for  him  some  day,  I  daresay.  And  now  be 
off,  and  if  you  want  to  come  and  see  me  at  work  and  learn 
about  hackling  and  the  business  that  ought  to  be  yours 
but  won't  be,  then  you  can  drop  in  again  when  you  mind 
to." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Abel.  "  I  will  come,  and  if  I 
say  you  let  me,  nobody  can  stop  me." 

"  That's  right.  I  like  brave  boys  that  ain't  frightened 
of  their  betters  —  so  called." 

Then  Abel  went  off,  crossed  Bride  among  the  sedges  and 
put  on  his  shoes  and  stockings  again.  He  had  a  great 
deal  to  think  about,  and  this  brief  conversation  played  its 
part  in  his  growing  brain  to  alter  old  opinions  and  waken 
new  ideas.  That  he  had  successfully  stormed  the  hackling 
shop  and  found  the  ogre  friendly  was,  of  course,  good; 
but  already,  and  long  before  he  could  retail  the  incident,  it 
began  to  lose  its  rare  savour.  He  perceived  this  himself 
dimly,  and  it  made  him  uncomfortable  and  troubled. 
Something  had  happened  to  him ;  he  knew  not  what,  but  it 
dwarfed  the  operations  of  the  Red  Hand,  and  it  even  made 


THE  RED  HAND  319 

his  personal  triumph  look  smaller  than  it  appeared  a  little 
while  before. 

Abel  stared  at  the  Mill  while  he  pulled  on  his  stockings 
and  listened  to  the  bell  calling  the  people  back  to  work. 

By  right,  then,  all  these  wonders  should  be  his  some 
day;  but  his  father  would  never  give  them  to  him  now. 
He  vaguely  remembered  that  his  grandmother  had  said 
something  like  this ;  but  it  remained  for  Mr.  Baggs  to  re- 
kindle the  impression  until  Abel  became  oppressed  with  its 
greatness. 

He  considered  the  problem  gloomily  for  a  long  time  and 
decided  to  talk  to  his  mother  about  it.  But  he  did  not. 
It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  seldom  went  to  Sa- 
bina  for  any  light  on  his  difficulties.  Indeed  he  attached 
more  importance  to  Mr.  Churchouse's  opinions  than  his 
mother's.  He  determined  to  see  Levi  Baggs  again  and, 
meantime,  he  let  a  sense  of  wrong  sink  into  him.  Here 
the  Band  of  the  Red  Hand  offered  comfort.  It  seemed 
proper  to  his  dawning  intelligence  that  one  who  had  been 
so  badly  treated  as  he,  should  become  the  head  of  the  Red 
Hand.  Yet,  as  the  possible  development  of  the  movement 
occurred  to  Abel,  the  child  began  to  share  the  uneasiness 
of  all  conspiracy  and  fe£I  a  weakness  inherent  in  the  Band. 
Seen  from  that  modest  standard  of  evil-doing  which  be- 
longed to  Tommy  and  Billy  Reep,  Amos  Whittle  and 
Jacky  Gale,  the  Red  Handers  appeared  a  futile  organisa- 
tion even  in  Abel's  eyes.  He  felt,  as  greater  than  he  have 
felt,  that  an  ideal  society  should  embrace  one  member  only : 
himself.  There  were  far  too  many  brothers  of  the  Red 
Hand,  and  before  he  reached  home  he  even  contemplated 
resignation.  He  liked  better  the  thought  of  playing  his 
own  hand,  and  keeping  both  its  colour  and  its  purpose 
secret  from  everybody  else  in  the  world.  His  head  was, 
for  the  moment,  full  of  unsocial  thoughts  ;  but  whether  the 
impressions  created  by  Mr.  Baggs  were  likely  to  persist 
in  a  mind  so  young,  looked  doubtful. 

He  told  his  mother  nothing,  as  usual.     Indeed,  had  she 


320  THE  SPINNERS 

guessed  half  that  went  on  in  Abel's  brains,  she  might  have 
sooner  undertaken  what  presently  was  indicated,  and  re- 
moved herself  and  her  son  to  a  district  far  beyond  their 
native  village. 

But  the  necessity  did  not  exist  in  her  thoughts,  and  when 
she  recognised  it,  since  the  inspiration  came  from  without, 
she  was  moved  to  resent  rather  than  accept  it. 


CHAPTER  V 

AN    ACCIDENT 

THERE  was  a  cricket  luncheon  at  '  The  Tiger '  when  Brid- 
port  played  its  last  match  for  the  season  against  Ax-« 
minster.  The  western  township  had  won  the  first  encoun- 
ter, and  Bridport  much  desired  to  cry  quits  over  the  sec- 
ond. 

Raymond  played  on  this  occasion,  and  though  he  failed, 
the  credit  of  BrideiOwn  was  worthily  upheld  by  Nicholas 
Roberts,  the  lathe-worker.  He  did  not  bowl  as  fast  as 
of  yore,  but  he  bowled  better,  and  since  Axminster  was  out 
for  one  hundred  and  thirty  in  their  first  innings,  while 
Bridport  had  made  seventy  for  two  wickets  before  lunch- 
eon, the  issue  promised  well. 

Job  Legg  still  helped  Richard  Gurd  at  great  moments 
as  he  was  wont  to  do,  for  prosperity  had  not  modified 
Job's  activity,  or  diminished  his  native  goodwill.  Gurd 
carved,  while  Job  looked  after  the  bottles.  Arthur  Wal- 
dron,  who  umpired  for  Bridport,  sat  beside  Raymond  at 
lunch  and  condoled  with  him,  because  the  younger,  who 
had  gone  in  second  wicket  down,  had  played  himself  in 
very  carefully  before  the  interval. 

"  Now  you'll  have  to  begin  all  over  again,"  said  Wal- 
dron.  "  I  always  say  luncheon  may  be  worth  anything 
to  the  bowlers.  It  rests  them,  but  it  puts  the  batsman's 
eye  out." 

"  Seeing  how  short  of  practice  you  are  this  year,  you 
were  jolly  steady,  Ray,"  declared  Neddy  Motyer,  who  sat 
on  the  other  side  of  Ironsyde.  "  You  stopped  some  very 
hot  ones." 

Neddy  preserved  his  old  interest  in  sport,  but  was  now 

a  responsible  member  of  society.     He  had  married  and 

321 


322  THE  SPINNERS 

joined  his  father,  a  harness-maker,  in  a  prosperous  busi- 
ness. 

"  I  can't  time  'em,  like  I  could.  That  fast  chap  will  get 
me,  I  expect." 

And  Raymond  proved  a  true  prophet.  Indeed  far 
worse  happened  than  he  anticipated. 

Estelle  came  to  watch  the  cricket  after  luncheon.  She 
had  driven  into  Bridport  with  her  father  and  Raymond  in 
the  morning  and  gone  on  to  Jenny  Ironsyde  for  the  mid- 
day meal.  Now  she  arrived  in  time  to  witness  a  catastro- 
phe. A  very  fast  bowler  went  on  immediately  after  lunch. 
He  was  a  tall  and  powerful  youth  with  a  sinister  reputa- 
tion for  bowling  at  the  man  rather  than  the  wicket.  At 
any  rate  he  pitched  them  short  and  with  his  lofty  delivery 
bumped  them  very  steeply  on  a  lively  pitch.  Now/ in  his 
second  over,  he  sent  down  a  short  one  at  tremendous  speed, 
and  the  batsman,  failing  to  get  out  of  the  way,  was  hit  on 
the  point  of  the  jaw.  He  fell  as  though  shot  and  proved 
to  be  quite  unconscious  when  picked  up. 

They  carried  him  to  the  pavilion,  and  it  was  not  until 
twenty  minutes  had  passed  that  Raymond  came  round 
and  the  game  went  on.  But  Ironsyde  could  take  no  fur- 
ther part.  There  was  concussion  of  doubtful  severity  and 
he  found  himself  half  blind  and  suffering  great  pain  in  the 
neck  and  head. 

Estelle  came  to  him  and  advised  that  he  should  go  to 
his  aunt's  house,  which  was  close  at  hand.  He  could  not 
speak,  but  signified  agreement,  and  they  took  him  there 
in  an  ambulance,  while  the  girl  ran  on  to  advise  his  aunt  of 
the  accident. 

A  doctor  came  with  him  and  helped  to  get  him  to  bed. 
His  mind  seemed  affected  and  he  wandered  in  his  speech. 
But  he  recognised  Estelle  and  begged  her  not  to  leave  him. 
She  sat  near  him,  therefore,  in  a  darkened  room  and  Miss 
Ironsyde  also  came. 

Waldron  dropped  in  before  dusk  with  the  news  that 
Bridport  had  won,  by  a  smaller  margin  than  promised,  on 


AN  ACCIDENT 

the  first  innings.  But  he  found  Raymond  sleeping  and  did 
not  waken  him.  Estelle  believed  the  injured  man  would 
want  her  when  he  woke  again.  The  doctor  could  say  noth- 
ing till  some  hours  had  passed,  so  she  went  home,  but  re- 
turned a  few  hours  later  to  stop  the  night  and  help,  if 
need  be,  to  nurse  the  patient.  A  professional  nurse  shared 
the  vigil;  but  their  duties  amounted  to  nothing,  for  Ray- 
mond slept  through  the  greater  part  of  the  night  and  de- 
clared himself  better  in  the  morning. 

He  had  to  stop  with  his  aunt,  however,  for  two  or  three 
days,  and  while  Estelle,  her  ministration  ended,  was  going 
away  after  the  doctor  pronounced  Raymond  on  the  road 
to  recovery,  the  patient  begged  her  to  remain.  He  ap- 
peared in  a  sentimental  vein,  and  the  experience  of  being 
nursed  was  so  novel  that  Ironsyde  endured  it  without  a 
murmur.  To  Estelle,  who  did  not  guess  he  was  rather 
enjoying  it,  the  spectacle  of  his  patience  under  pain  awoke 
admiration.  Indeed,  she  thought  him  most  heroic  and  he 
made  no  effort  to  undeceive  her. 

Incidentally,  during  his  brief  convalescence  the  man  saw 
more  of  his  aunt  than  he  had  seen  for  many  days.  She 
also  must  needs  nurse  him  and  exhaust  her  ingenuity  to 
pass  the  time.  The  room  was  kept  dark  for  eight-and- 
f  orty  hours,  so  her  method  of  entertaining  her  nephew  con- 
sisted chiefly  in  conversation. 

Of  late  years  Raymond  seldom  let  a  week  elapse  without 
seeing  Miss  Ironsyde  if  only  for  half  an  hour.  Her  wan- 
ing health  occupied  him  on  these  occasions  and,  at  his  sug- 
gestion, she  had  gone  to  Bath  to  fight  the  arthritis  that 
slowly  gained  upon  her.  But  during  his  present  sojourn 
at  Bridport  as  her  guest,  Raymond  let  her  lead  their  talk 
as  she  would,  indeed,  he  himself  sometimes  led  it  into  chan- 
nels of  the  past,  where  she  would  not  have  ventured  to  go. 

Life  had  made  an  immense  difference  to  the  man  and  he 
was  old  for  his  age  now,  even  as  until  his  brother's  death 
he  had  been  young  for  his  age.  She  could  not  fail  to  note 
the  steadfastness  of  his  mind,  despite  its  limitations.  As 


THE  SPINNERS 

Estelle  had  often  done,  she  perceived  how  he  set  his  faith 
on  material  things  —  the  steel  and  steam  —  to  bring  about 
a  new  order  and  advance  the  happiness  of  mankind;  but 
he  was  interested  in  social  questions  far  more  than  of  old 
time,  and  she  felt  no  little  surprise  to  hear  him  talk  about 
the  future. 

"  The  air  is  full  of  change,"  she  said,  on  one  occasion. 

"  It  always  is,"  he  answered.  "  There  is  always  move- 
ment, although  the  breath  of  advance  and  progress  seems 
to  sink  to  nothing,  sometimes.  Now  it's  blowing  a  stiff 
breeze  and  may  rise  to  a  hurricane  in  a  few  years." 

"  It  is  for  the  stable,  solid  backbone  of  the  nation  —  we 
of  the  middle-class  —  to  withstand  such  storms,"  she  de- 
clared, and  he  agreed. 

"  If  you've  got  a  stake  in  the  world,  you  must  certainly 
see  its  foundations  are  driven  deep  and  look  to  the  stake 
itself,  that  it's  not  rotting.  Some  stakes  are  certainly  not 
made  of  stuff  stout  enough  to  stand  against  the  storms 
ahead.  Education  is  the  great,  vital  thing.  I  often  feel 
mad  to  think  how  I  wasted  my  own  time  at  school,  and 
came  to  man's  work  a  raw,  ignorant  fool.  We  talk  of  the 
education  of  the  masses  and  what  I  see  is  this :  they  will 
soon  be  better  educated  than  we  ourselves;  for  we  bring 
any  amount  of  sense  and  modern  ideas  to  work  on  their 
teaching,  while  our  own  prehistorical  methods  are  left 
severely  alone.  I  believe  the  boys  who  come  to  working 
age  now  are  better  taught  than  I  was  at  my  grammar 
school.  I  wish  I  knew  more." 

"  Yet  we  see  education  may  run  us  into  great  dangers," 
said  Jenny  Ironsyde.  "  It  can  be  pushed  to  a  perilous 
point.  One  even  hears  a  murmur  against  the  Bible  in  the 
schools.  It  makes  my  blood  run  cold.  And  we  need  not 
look  farther  than  dear  Estelle  to  see  the  peril." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Estelle?  "  he  asked.  "  I  almost 
welcome  this  stupid  collapse,  nuisance  though  it  is,  be- 
cause it's  made  a  sort  of  resting-place  and  brought  me 
nearer  to  you  and  Estelle.  You've  both  been  so  kind.  A 


AN  ACCIDENT  325 

man  such  as  I  am,  is  so  busy  and  absorbed  that  he  forgets 
all  about  women ;  then  suddenly  lying  on  his  back  —  done 
for  and  useless  —  he  finds  they  don't  forget  all  about  him." 

"  You  ask  what  I  think  about  Estelle?  "  she  said.  "  I 
never  think  about  Estelle  —  no  more  than  I  do  about  the 
sunshine,  or  my  comfortable  bed,  or  my  tea.  She's  just 
one  of  the  precious  things  I  take  for  granted.  I  love  her. 
She  is  a  great  deal  to  me,  and  the  hours  she  spends  with  a 
rather  old-fashioned  and  cross-grained  woman  are  the 
happiest  hours  I  know." 

"  I'm  like  her  father,"  he  said.  "  I  give  Estelle  best. 
Nothing  can  spoil  her,  because  she's  so  utterly  uninter- 
ested in  herself.  Another  thing :  she's  so  fair  —  almost 
morbidly  fair.  The  only  thing  that  makes  her  savage  is 
injustice.  If  she  sees  an  injustice,  she  won't  leave  it  alone 
if  it's  in  her  power  to  alter  it.  That's  her  father  in  her. 
What  he  calls  '  sporting,'  she  calls  *  justice.'  And,  of 
course,  the  essence  of  sport  is  justice,  if  you  think  it  out." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  sport,  but  I  suppose  I 
have  to  thank  cricket  for  your  company  at  present.  As 
for  Estelle,  I  think  she  has  a  great  idea  of  your  judgment 
and  opinion." 

He  laughed. 

"  If  she  does,  it's  probably  because  I  generally  agree 
with  her.  Besides " 

He  broke  off  and  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"  <  Besides  '  what?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  Well  —  oh  I  hardly  know.  I'm  tremendously  fond  of 
her.  Perhaps  I've  taken  her  too  much  as  you  say  we  take 
the  sun  and  our  meat  and  drink  —  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Yes,  like  the  sun,  and  as  unapproachable." 

Miss  Ironsyde  considered. 

"  I  suppose  you're  right.  I  can  well  imagine  that  to 
the  average  man  a  '  Una,'  such  as  Estelle,  may  seem  rather 
unapproachable." 

"  We're  very  good  friends,  though  how  good  I  never 
quite  guessed  till  this  catastrophe.  She  seemed  to  come 


326  THE  SPINNERS 

and  help  look  after  me  as  a  matter  of  course.  Didn't 
think  it  a  bit  strange." 

"  She's  simple,  but  in  a  very  noble  way.  I've  only  one 
quarrel  with  her  —  the  faith  of  her  fathers " 

"  Leave  it.  You'll  only  put  your  foot  into  it,  Aunt 
Jenny." 

"  Never,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  never  put  my  foot  into 
it  where  right  and  wrong  are  concerned  —  with  Estelle 
or  you,  or  anybody  else.  I'm  nearly  seventy,  remember, 
Raymond,  and  one  knows  what  is  imperishable  and  to  be 
trusted  at  that  age." 

Thus  she  negatived  Mr.  Churchouse's  dictum  —  that 
mere  age  demanded  no  particular  reverence,  since  many 
years  are  as  liable  to  error  as  few. 

Her  nephew  was  doubtful. 

"  Right  and  wrong  are  a  never-ending  puzzle,"  he  said. 
"  They  vary  so  from  the  point  of  view.  And  if  you  once 
grant  there  are  more  view  points  than  one,  where  are 

JOU?  » 

"  Right  and  wrong  are  not  doubtful,"  she  assured  him, 
"  and  all  the  science  in  the  world  can't  turn  one  into  the 
other  —  any  more  than  light  can  turn  into  darkness." 

"  Light  can  turn  into  darkness  easily  enough.  I've 
learned  that  during  the  last  three  days,"  he  answered. 
"  If  you  fill  this  room  with  light,  I  can't  see.  If  you  keep 
it  dark,  I  can." 

Estelle  came  to  tea  and  read  some  notes  that  Mr.  Best 
had  prepared  for  Raymond.  They  satisfied  him,  and  the 
meal  was  merry,  for  he  found  himself  free  of  pain  and  in 
the  best  spirits.  Estelle,  too,  had  some  gossip  that 
amused  him.  Her  father  was  already  practising  at  clay 
pigeons  to  get  his  eye  in  for  the  first  of  September;  and 
he  wished  to  inform  Raymond  that  he  was  shooting  well 
and  hoped  for  a  better  season  than  the  last.  He  had  also 
seen  a  vixen  and  three  cubs  on  North  Hill  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  preceding  day. 

"  In  fact,  it's  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds  so  far  as 


AN  ACCIDENT  327 

father  is  concerned,"  said  Estelle,  "  and  now  he  hears 
you're  coming  home  early  next  week,  he  will  go  to  church 
on  Sunday  with  a  thankful  heart.  He  said  yesterday  that 
Raymond's  accident  had  a  bright  side.  D'you  know  what 
it  is?  Ray  meant  to  give  up  cricket  altogether  after  this 
year;  but  father  points  out  that  he  cannot  do  so  now. 
Because  it  is  morally  impossible  for  Ray  to  stop  playing 
until  he  stands  up  again  to  that  bowler  who  hurt  him  so 
badly.  '  Morally  impossible,'  is  what  father  said." 

"  He's  quite  right  too,"  declared  the  patient.  "  Till 
I've  knocked  that  beggar  out  of  his  own  ground  for  six,  I 
certainly  shan't  chuck  cricket.  We  must  meet  again  next 
season,  if  we're  both  alive.  Everybody  can  see  that." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    GATHERING    PROBLEM 

SABINA  DINNETT  found  that  her  mind  was  not  so  indiffer- 
ent to  her  fortunes  as  she  supposed.  Upon  examining  it, 
with  respect  to  the  problem  of  leaving  Bridetown  for 
Abel's  sake,  which  Ernest  had  now  raised,  she  discovered 
a  very  keen  disinclination  to  depart.  Here  was  the  only 
home  that  she,  or  her  child,  had  ever  known,  and  though 
that  mattered  nothing,  she  shrank  from  beginning  a  new 
life  away  from  '  The  Magnolias  '  under  the  increased  re- 
sponsibility of  sole  control  where  Abel  was  concerned. 
Moreover,  Mr.  Churchouse  had  more  power  with  Abel  than 
anybody.  The  boy  liked  him  and  must  surely  win  sense 
and  knowledge  from  him,  as  Sabina  herself  had  won  them 
in  the  past.  She  knew  that  these  considerations  were 
superficial  and  the  vital  point  in  reason  was  to  separate  the 
son  from  the  father;  so  that  Abel's  existing  animus  might 
perish.  Both  Estelle  and  Ernest  Churchouse  had  im- 
pressed the  view  upon  her;  but  here  crept  in  the  personal 
factor,  and  Sabina  found  that  she  had  no  real  desire  to 
mend  the  relationship.  Considerations  of  her  child's 
future  pointed  to  more  self-denial,  but  only  that  Abel 
might  in  time  come  to  be  reconciled  to  Raymond  and  accept 
good  at  his  hands.  And  when  Sabina  thought  upon  this, 
she  soon  saw  that  her  own  indifference,  where  Ironsyde  was 
concerned,  did  not  extend  to  the  future  of  the  boy.  She 
could  still  feel,  and  still  suffer,  and  still  resent  certain 
possibilities.  She  trusted  that  in  time  to  come,  when  Mr. 
Churchouse  and  Miss  Ironsyde  were  gone,  the  measure  of 
her  son's  welfare  would  be  hers.  She  was  content  to  see 
herself  depending  upon  him ;  but  not  if  his  own  prosperity 

came  from  his  father.     She  preferred  to  picture  Abel  as 

328 


THE  GATHERING  PROBLEM     329 

making  his  way  without  obligations  to  that  source.  She 
might  have  married  and  made  her  own  home,  but  that  al- 
ternative never  tempted  her,  since  it  would  have  thrust  her 
off  the  pedestal  which  she  occupied,  as  one  faithful  to  the 
faithless,  one  bitterly  wronged,  a  reproach  to  the  good 
name  —  perhaps,  even  a  threat  to  the  sustained  prosperity 
of  Raymond  Ironsyde.  She  could  feel  all  this  at  some 
moments. 

She  determined  now  to  let  the  matter  rest,  and  when 
Ernest  Churchouse  ventured  to  remind  her  of  the  subject 
and  to  repeat  the  opinion  that  it  might  be  wise  for  Sabina 
to  take  the  boy  away  from  Bridetown,  she  postponed  deci- 
sion. 

"  I've  thought  upon  it,"  she  said,  "  and  I  feel  it  can  very 
well  be  left  to  the  spring,  if  you  see  nothing  against.  I've 
promised  to  do  some  braiding  in  my  spare  time  this  winter 
for  a  firm  at  Bridport  that  wants  netting  in  large  quanti- 
ties. They  are  giving  it  out  to  those  who  can  do  it;  and 
as  for  Abel,  he'll  go  to  his  day-school  through  the  winter. 
And  it  means  a  great  deal  to  me,  Mister  Churchouse,  that 
you  are  as  good  and  helpful  to  him  as  you  were  to  me 
when  I  was  young.  I  don't  want  to  lose  that." 

"  I  wish  I'd  been  more  helpful,  my  dear." 

"  You  taught  me  a  great  many  things  valuable  to  know. 
I  should  have  been  in  my  grave  years  ago,  but  for  you,  I 
reckon.  And  the  child's  only  a  child  still.  If  you  work 
upon  him,  you'll  make  him  meek  and  mild  in  time." 

"  He'll  never  be  meek  and  mild,  Sabina  —  any  more  than 
you  were.  He  has  plenty  of  character ;  he's  good  material 
—  excellent  stuff  to  be  moulded  into  a  fine  pattern,  I  hope. 
But  a  little  leaven  leavens  the  whole  lump  of  a  child,  and 
what  I  can  do  is  not  enough  to  outweigh  other  influences." 

"  I  don't  fear  for  him.  He's  got  to  face  facts,  and  as 
he  grows  he  must  use  his  own  wits  and  get  his  own  liv- 
ing." 

"  The  fear  is  that  he  may  be  spoiled  and  come  to  settled, 
rooted  prejudices,  too  hard  to  break  down  afterwards. 


330  THE  SPINNERS 

He  is  a  very  interesting  boy,  just  as  you  were  a  very 
interesting  girl,  Sabina.  He  often  reminds  me  of  you. 
There  are  the  possibilities  of  beauty  in  his  character.  He 
is  sentimental  about  some  things  and  strangely  indifferent 
about  others.  He  is  a  mixture  of  exaggerated  kindness  in 
some  directions  and  utter  callousness  in  others.  Senti- 
mental people  often  are.  He  will  pick  a  caterpillar  out  of 
the  road  to  save  it  from  death,  and  he  will  stone  a  dog 
if  he  has  a  grudge  against  it.  His  attitude  to  Peter  Grim 
is  one  of  devotion.  He  actually  told  me  that  it  was  very 
sad  that  Peter  had  now  grown  too  old  to  catch  mice. 
Again,  he  always  brings  me  the  first  primrose  and  spares 
no  pains  to  find  it.  Such  little  acts  argue  a  kindly  nature. 
But  against  them,  you  have  to  set  his  unreasoning  dislike 
of  human  beings  and  a  certain  —  shall  I  say  buccaneering 
spirit." 

"  He  feels,  and  so  he'll  suffer  —  as  I  did.  The  more 
you  feel,  the  more  you  suffer." 

"  And  it  is  therefore  our  duty  to  prevent  him  from  feel- 
ing mistakenly  and  wanting  to  make  others  suffer.  He 
may  sometimes  catch  allusions  in  his  quick  ears  that  cause 
him  doubt  and  even  pain.  And  it  is  certain  that  the  sight 
of  his  father  does  wake  wrong  thoughts.  Removed  from 
here,  the  best  part  of  him  would  develop,  and  when  the 
larger  questions  of  his  future  begin  to  be  considered  in  a 
few  years  time,  he  might  then  approach  them  with  an  open 
mind." 

"  There  can  be  no  harm  in  leaving  it  till  the  spring. 
He'd  hate  going  away  from  here." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  The  young  welcome  a  change  of  en- 
vironment. There  is  nothing  more  healthy  for  their  minds 
as  a  rule  than  to  travel  about.  However,  we  will  get  him 
used  to  the  idea  of  going  and  think  about  it  again  in  the 
spring." 

So  the  subject  was  left,  and  when  the  suggestion  of 
departing  from  Bridetown  came  to  Abel,  he  belied  the 
prophecy  of  Mr.  Chur chouse  and  declared  a  strong  objec- 


THE  GATHERING  PROBLEM     331 

tion  to  the  thought  of  going.  His  mother  influenced  him 
in  this. 

During  the  autumn  he  had  a  misfortune,  for,  with  two 
other  members  of  the  *  Red  Hand,'  he  was  caught  stealing 
apples  at  the  time  of  cider-making.  Three  strokes  of  a 
birch  rod  fell  on  each  revolutionary,  and  not  Ernest  Chur- 
chouse  nor  his  mother  could  console  Abel  for  this  reverse. 
He  gleaned  his  sole  comfort  at  a  dangerous  source,  and 
while  the  kindly  ignored  the  event  and  the  unkindly  dwelt 
upon  it,  only  Levi  Baggs  applauded  Abel  and  preached 
privi-conspiracy  and  rebellion.  Raymond  Ironsyde  was 
much  perturbed  at  the  adventure,  but  his  friend  Waldron 
held  the  event  desirable.  As  a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  it  was 
Arthur  who  prescribed  the  punishment  and  trusted  in  it. 

Thus  he,  too,  incurred  Abel's  enmity.  The  company  of 
the  *  Red  Hand  '  was  disbanded  to  meet  no  more,  and  if 
his  fellow  sufferers  gained  by  their  chastisement,  it  was 
certain  that  Sabina's  son  did  not.  Insensate  law  fits  the 
punishment  to  the  crime  rather  than  to  the  criminal,  as 
though  a  doctor  should  only  treat  disease,  without  thought 
of  the  patient  enduring  it. 

Neither  did  Abel's  mother  take  the  reverse  with  philoso- 
phy. She  resented  it  as  cruel  cowardice ;  but  it  reminded 
her  of  the  advantages  to  be  gained  by  leaving  her  old  home. 

Then  fell  an  unexpected  disaster  and  Mr.  Churchouse 
was  called  to  suffer  a  dangerous  attack  of  bronchitis. 

The  illness  seemed  to  banish  all  other  considerations 
from  Sabina's  mind  and,  while  the  issue  remained  in  doubt, 
she  planned  various  courses  of  action.  Incidentally,  she 
saw  more  of  Estelle  and  Miss  Ironsyde  than  of  late,  for 
Mr.  Churchouse,  whose  first  pleasure  on  earth  was  now 
Estelle,  craved  her  presence  during  convalescence,  as  Ray- 
mond in  like  case  had  done ;  and  Miss  Ironsyde  also  drove 
to  see  him  on  several  occasions.  The  event  filled  all  with 
concern,  for  Ernest  had  a  trick  to  make  friends  and,  what 
is  more  rare,  an  art  to  keep  them.  Many  bevond  his  own 
circle  were  relieved  and  thankful  when  he  weathered  danger 


332  THE  SPINNERS 

and  began  to  build  up  again  with  the  lengthening  days  of 
the  new  year. 

Abel  had  been  very  solicitous  on  his  behalf,  and  he 
praised  the  child  to  Jenny  and  Estelle,  when  they  came  to 
drink  tea  with  him  on  a  day  in  early  spring. 

"  I  believe  there  are  great  possibilities  in  him  and,  when 
I  am  stronger,  I  shall  resume  my  attack  on  Sabina  to  go 
away,"  he  said.  "  The  boy's  mind  is  being  poisoned  and 
we  might  prevent  it." 

"  It's  a  most  unfortunate  state  of  affairs,"  declared  Miss 
Ironsyde.  "  Yet  it  was  bound  to  happen  in  a  little  place 
like  this.  Raymond  is  not  sensitive,  or  he  would  feel  it  far 
more  than  he  does." 

"  He  can't  do  more  and  he  does  feel  it  a  great  deal," 
declared  Estelle.  "  I  think  Sabina  sees  it  clearly  enough* 
but  it's  very  hard  on  her  too,  to  have  to  go  from  Mister 
Churchouse  and  her  home." 

"  Nothing  is  more  mysterious  than  the  sowing  and  ger- 
mination of  spiritual  seed,"  said  the  old  man.  "  The 
enemy  sowed  tares  by  night,  and  what  can  be  more  devilish 
than  sowing  the  tares  of  evil  on  virgin  soil?  It  was  done 
long  ago.  One  hesitates  to  censure  the  dead,  though  I 
daresay,  if  we  could  hear  them  talking  in  another  world, 
we  should  find  they  didn't  feel  nearly  so  nice  about  us  and 
speak  their  minds  quite  plainly.  We  know  plenty  of  peo- 
ple who  must  be  criticising.  But  truth  will  out,  and  the 
truth  is  that  Mary  Dinnett  planted  evil  thoughts  and 
prejudices  in  Abel.  He  was  not  too  young,  unfortunately, 
to  give  them  room.  A  very  curious  woman  —  obstinate 
and  almost  malignant  if  vexed  and  quite  incapable  of  keep- 
ing silence  even  when  it  was  most  demanded.  If  you  are 
going  to  give  people  confidences,  you  must  have  a  good 
memory.  Mary  would  confide  all  sorts  of  secrets  to  me 
and  then,  perhaps  six  months  afterwards,  be  quite  furious 
to  find  I  knew  them !  She  came  to  me  for  advice  on  one 
occasion  and  I  reminded  her  of  certain  circumstances  she 
had  confided  to  me  in  the  past,  and  she  lost  her  temper 


THE  GATHERING  PROBLEM 

entirely.  Yet  a  woman  of  most  excellent  qualities  and 
most  charitable  in  other  people's  affairs." 

"  The  question  is  Abel,  and  I  have  told  Sabina  she  must 
decide  about  him,"  said  Jenny.  "  We  are  all  of  one  mind, 
and  Raymond  himself  thinks  it  would  be  most  desirable. 
As  soon  as  you  are  well  again,  Sabina  must  go." 

"  I  shall  miss  her  very  much.  To  find  anybody  who  will 
fall  into  my  ways  may  be  difficult.  When  I  was  younger, 
I  used  to  like  training  a  domestic.  I  found  it  was  better 
to  rule  by  love  than  fear.  You  may  lose  here  and  there, 
but  you  gain  more  than  you  lose.  Human  character  is 
really  not  so  profoundly  difficult,  if  you  resolutely  try  to 
see  life  from  the  other  person's  standpoint.  That  done, 
you  can  help  them  —  and  yourself  through  them." 

"  People  who  show  you  their  edges,  instead  of  their 
rounds,  are  not  at  all  agreeable,"  said  Miss  Ironsyde. 
"  To  conquer  the  salients  of  character  is  often  a  very  for- 
midable task." 

"  It  is,"  he  admitted,  "  yet  I  have  found  the  comforta- 
ble, convex  and  concave  characters  often  really  more  diffi- 
cult in  the  long  run.  You  must  have  some  hard  and  dura- 
ble rock  on  which  to  found  understanding  and  security. 
The  soft,  crumbling  people  may  be  lovable;  but  they  are 
useless  as  sand  at  a  crisis.  They  are  always  slipping  away 
and  threatening  to  smother  their  best  friends  with  the 
debris." 

He  chattered  on  until  a  fit  of  coughing  stopped  him. 

"  You  mustn't  talk  so  much,"  warned  Estelle.  "  It's 
lovely  to  hear  you  talking  again ;  but  it  isn't  good  for  you, 
yet." 

Then  she  turned  to  Miss  Ironsyde. 

"  The  first  time  I  came  in  and  found  him  reading  a  book 
catalogue,  I  knew  he  was  going  to  be  all  right." 

"  By  the  same  token  another  gift  has  reached  me,"  he 
answered ;  "  a  book  on  the  bells  of  Devon,  which  I  have 
long  wanted  to  possess." 

"  I'm  sure  it  is  not  such  a  perfect  book  as  yours." 


334  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Indeed  it  is  —  very  excellently  done.  The  bell  mot- 
toes in  Devonshire  are  worthy  of  all  admiration.  But  a 
great  many  of  the  bells  in  ancient  bell-chambers  are  crazed 
—  a  grave  number.  People  don't  think  as  much  of  a  ring 
of  bells  in  a  parish  as  they  used  to  do." 

Miss  Ironsyde  brought  the  conversation  back  to  Abel ; 
but  Ernest  was  tired  of  this.  He  viewed  Sabina's  depar- 
ture with  great  personal  regret. 

"  Things  will  be  as  they  will,  my  dears,"  he  told  them, 
"  and  I  have  such  respect  for  Sabina's  good  sense  that  I 
shall  be  quite  content  to  leave  decision  with  her.  It  would 
not  become  me  to  dictate  or  command  in  such  a  delicate 
matter.  To  return  to  the  bells,  I  have  received  a  rather 
encouraging  statement  from  the  publishers.  Four  copies 
of  my  book  have  been  sold  during  the  last  six  months." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    WALK    HOME 

UPON  a  Bank  Holiday  Sabina  took  Abel  to  West  Haven 
for  a  long  day  on  the  beach  and  pier.  He  enjoyed  him- 
self very  thoroughly,  ate,  drank  and  played  to  his  heart's 
content.  But  his  amusements  brought  more  pleasure  to 
the  child  than  his  mother,  for  he  found  the  wonderful  old 
stores  and  discovered  therein  far  more  entertaining  occu- 
pation than  either  sea  or  shore  could  offer. 

The  place  was  deserted  to-day,  and  while  Sabina  sat 
outside  in  a  corner  of  the  courtyard  and  occupied  herself 
with  the  future,  Abel  explored  the  mysteries  of  the  ancient 
building  and  found  all  manner  of  strange  nooks  and  mys- 
terious passages.  He  wove  dreams  and  magnified  the  least 
incident  into  an  adventure.  He  inhabited  the  dark  cor- 
ners and  sombre,  subterranean  places  with  enemies  that 
wanted  to  catch  him;  he  most  potently  believed  that  hid- 
den treasures  awaited  him  under  the  hollow-echoing  floors. 
Once  he  had  a  rare  fright,  for  a  bat  hanging  asleep  in  its 
folded  wings,  was  wakened  by  him  and  suddenly  flew  into 
his  face.  He  climbed  and  crawled  and  crept  about,  stole 
a  lump  of  putty  and  rejoiced  at  the  discovery  of  some 
paint  pots  and  a  brush.  The  '  Red  Hand  '  no  longer  ex- 
isted ;  but  the  opportunity  once  more  to  set  up  its  sinister 
symbol  was  too  good  to  resist.  He  painted  it  on  the 
walls  in  several  places  and  then  called  his  mother  to  look 
at  the  achievement. 

She  climbed  up  a  long  flight  of  stone  steps  that  led  to 
the  lofts,  and  suffered  a  strange  experience  presently,  for 
the  child  was  playing  in  the  chamber  sacred  to  her  sur- 
render. She  stood  where  twelve  years  before  she  had  come 
with  Raymond  Ironsyde  after  their  day  at  Golden  Cap. 

Light  fell  through  a  window  let  into  the  roof.  It  was 

335 


336  THE  SPINNERS 

broken  and  fringed  with  cobwebs.  The  pile  of  fishermen's 
nets  had  vanished  and  a  carpenter's  bench  had  taken  its 
place.  On  the  walls  and  timbers  were  scrawled  names  and 
initials  of  holiday  folk,  who  had  explored  the  old  stores 
through  many  years. 

Sabina,  perceiving  where  she  stood,  closed  her  eyes  and 
took  an  involuntary  step  backward.  Abel  called  attention 
to  his  sign  upon  the  walls. 

"  The  carpenter  will  shiver  when  he  sees  that,"  he  said. 

Then  he  rambled  off,  whistling,  and  she  sat  down  and 
stared  round  her.  She  told  herself  that  deep  thoughts 
must  surely  wake  under  this  sudden  experience  and  the 
fountains  of  long  sealed  emotion  bubble  upwards,  to  drown 
her  before  them.  Instead  she  merely  found  herself  incapa- 
ble of  thinking.  A  dull,  stale,  almost  stagnant  mood  crept 
over  her.  Her  mind  could  neither  walk  nor  fly.  After 
the  first  thrill  of  recognition,  the  light  went  out  and  she 
found  herself  absolutely  indifferent.  Not  anger  touched 
her,  nor  pain.  That  the  child  of  that  perished  passion 
should  play  here,  and  laugh  and  be  merry  was  poignant, 
but  it  did  not  move  her  and  she  felt  a  sort  of  surprise  that 
it  should  not.  There  was  a  time  when  such  an  experience 
must  have  shaken  her  to  the  depths,  plunged  her  into  some 
deep  pang  of  soul  and  left  indelible  wounds ;  now,  no  such 
thhig  happened. 

She  gazed  mildly  about  her  and  almost  smiled.  Then 
she  rose  from  her  seat  on  the  carpenter's  bench,  went  out 
and  descended  the  staircase  again. 

When  she  called  him  to  a  promised  tea  at  an  inn,  Abel 
came  at  once.  He  was  weary  and  well  content. 

"  I  shall  often  come  here,"  he  said.  "  It's  the  best  place 
I  know  —  better  than  the  old  kiln  on  North  Hill.  I  could 
hide  there  and  nobody  find  me,  and  you  could  bring  me 
food  at  night." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  hide  for,  pretty  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  might,"  he  answered  and  looked  at  her  cautiously 
For  a  moment  he  seemed  inclined  to  say  more,  but  did  not. 


THE  WALK  HOME  337 

After  tea  they  set  out  for  home,  and  the  fate,  which, 
through  the  incident  of  the  old  store,  had  subtly  prepared 
and  paved  a  way  to  something  of  greater  import,  sent  Ray- 
mond Ironsyde.  They  had  passed  the  point  at  which  the 
road  from  West  Haven  converges  into  that  from  Bridport, 
and  a  man  on  horseback  overtook  them.  They  were  all 
going  in  the  same  direction  and  Abel,  as  soon  as  he  saw 
who  approached,  left  his  mother,  went  over  a  convenient 
gate  upon  their  right  and  hastened  up  a  hedge.  Thus  he 
always  avoided  his  father,  and  when  blamed  for  so  doing, 
would  silently  endure  the  blame  without  explanation  or 
any  offer  of  excuse.  Raymond  had  seen  him  thus  escape 
on  more  than  one  occasion,  and  the  incident,  clashing  at 
this  moment  upon  his  own  thoughts,  prompted  him  to  a 
definite  and  unusual  thing.  The  opportunity  was  good; 
Sabina  walked  alone,  and  if  she  rebuffed  him,  he  could 
endure  the  rebuff. 

He  determined  to  speak  to  her  and  break  a  silence  of 
many  years.  The  result  he  could  not  guess,  but  since  he 
was  actuated  by  friendly  motives  alone,  he  hoped  the  sud- 
den inspiration  might  prove  fertile  of  good.  At  worse 
she  could  only  decline  his  advance  and  refuse  to  speak  with 
him. 

Their  thoughts  that  day,  unknown  to  each,  had  been 
upon  the  other  and  there  was  some  emotion  in  the  man's 
voice  when  he  spoke,  though  none  in  hers  when  she  an- 
swered. For  to  him  that  chance  meeting  came  as  a  sur- 
prise and  prompted  him  to  a  sudden  approach  he  might 
not  have  ventured  on  maturer  consideration;  to  her  it 
seemed  to  carry  on  the  experience  of  the  day  and,  un- 
guessed  by  Raymond,  brought  less  amazement  than  he  im- 
agined. She  was  a  fatalist  —  perhaps,  had  always  been 
so,  as  her  mother  before  her;  yet  she  knew  it  not.  They 
had  passed  and  repassed  many  times  during  the  vanished 
years ;  but  since  the  moment  that  she  had  dismissed  him 
with  scorn  and  hoped  her  child  would  live  to  insult  his 
grave,  they  had  never  spoken, 


338  THE  SPINNERS 

He  inquired  now  if  he  might  address  her. 

"  May  I  say  a  few  words  to  you?  "  he  asked. 

Not  knowing  what  was  in  her  mind,  he  felt  surprised  at 
her  conventional  reply. 

"  I  suppose  so,  if  you  wish  to  do  so." 

Her  voice  seemed  to  roll  back  time.  Yet  he  guessed  her 
to  be  less  indifferent  than  her  words  implied. 

He  dismounted  and  walked  beside  her. 

"  I  dare  say  you  can  understand  a  little  what  I  feel, 
when  I  see  that  child  run  away  whenever  he  sets  eyes  on 
me,"  he  began ;  but  she  did  not  help  him.  His  voice  to  her 
ear  was  changed.  It  had  grown  deeper  and  hardened. 
It  was  more  monotonous  and  did  not  rise  and  fall  as 
swiftly  as  of  old. 

"  I  don't  know  at  all  what  you  feel  about  him.  I  didn't 
know  that  you  felt  anything  about  him." 

This  was  a  false  note  and  he  felt  pained. 

"  Indeed,  Sabina,  you  know  very  well  I  want  his  friend- 
ship —  I  need  it  even.  Before  anything  I  wish  to  be- 
friend him." 

"  You  can't  help  him.  He's  a  very  affectionate  child 
and  loves  me  dearly.  You  wouldn't  understand  him.  He's 
all  heart." 

He  marked  now  the  great  change  in  Sabina.  Her  voice 
was  cold  and  indifferent.  But  a  cynic  fate  willed  this 
mood.  Had  she  not  spent  the  day  at  West  Haven  and 
stood  in  the  old  store,  it  is  possible  she  might  have  listened 
to  him  in  another  spirit. 

"  I  know  he's  a  clever  boy,  with  plenty  of  charm  about 
him.  And  I  do  think,  whatever  you  may  feel,  Sabina,  it  is 
doubtfully  wise  of  you  to  stand  between  him  and  me." 

"  If  you  fancy  that,  it  is  a  good  thing  you  spoke,"  she 
answered.  "  Because  nothing  further  from  the  truth 
could  be.  I  don't  stand  between  him  and  you.  I've  never 
influenced  him  against  you.  He's  heard  nothing  but  the 
fact  that  you're  his  father  from  me.  I've  been  careful  to 


THE  WALK  HOME  339 

leave  it  at  that,  and  I've  never  answered  more  than  the 
truth  to  his  many  questions." 

"  It  is  a  very  great  sorrow  to  me,  and  it  will  largely  ruin 
my  life  if  I  cannot  win  his  friendship  and  plan  his  future." 

"  A  child's  friendship  is  easily  won.  If  he  denies  it,  you 
may  be  sure  it  is  for  a  natural  instinct." 

"  Such  an  instinct  is  most  unnatural.  He  has  had 
nothing  but  friendly  words  and  friendly  challenges  from 
me." 

She  felt  herself  growing  impatient.  It  was  clear  that 
he  had  spoken  out  of  interest  for  the  child  alone,  and  any 
shadowy  suspicion  that  he  designed  to  declare  interest  in 
herself  departed  from  Sabina's  mind. 

"  Well,  what's  that  to  me?  I  can't  alter  him.  I  can't 
make  him  regard  you  as  a  hero  and  a  father  to  be  proud 
of.  He's  not  hard-hearted  or  anything  of  that.  He's 
pretty  much  like  other  boys  of  his  age  —  more  sensitive, 
that's  all.  He  can  suffer  very  sharply  and  bitterly  and  he 
did  when  that  cruel,  blundering  fool  at  North  Hill  House 
had  him  whipped.  He  gets  the  cursed  power  to  suffer 
from  his  mother.  And,  such  is  his  position  in  the  world, 
that  his  power  to  suffer  no  doubt  will  be  proved  to  the 
utmost." 

"  I  don't  want  him  to  suffer.  At  least  it  is  in  my  reach 
to  save  him  a  great  deal  of  needless  suffering." 

"That's  just  what  it  isn't  —  not  with  his  nature. 
He'd  rather  suffer  than  be  beholden  to  you  for  anything. 
Young  as  he  is,  he's  told  me  so  in  so  many  words.  He 
knows  he's  different  from  other  boys  —  already  he  knows 
it  —  and  that  breeds  bitterness.  He's  like  a  dog  that's 
been  ill-treated  and  finds  it  hard  to  trust  anybody  in  con- 
sequence. Unfortunately  for  you,  he's  got  brains  enough 
to  judge;  and  the  older  he  grows,  the  harder  he'll  judge." 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  break  down,  Sabina.  It's  aw- 
fully sad  to  feel,  that  for  a  prejudice  against  things  that 
can't  be  altered,  he  should  stand  in  his  own  light  and  be  a 


340  THE  SPINNERS 

needless  martyr  and  make  me  a  greater  villain  than  I  am." 

"  Are  you  a  villain?  If  you  are,  it  isn't  my  child  that 
made  you  one  —  nor  me,  either.  No  doubt  it's  awkward 
to  see  him  running  about  and  breathing  the  same  air  with 
you." 

He  felt  an  impulse  of  anger,  but  easily  checked  it. 

"  You're  rather  hard  on  me,  I  think.  It's  a  great  deal 
more  than  awkward  to  have  my  child  take  this  line.  It's 
desperately  sad.  And  you  must  know  —  thinking  purely 
and  only  of  him  —  that  nothing  can  be  gained  and  much 
lost  by  it.  You  say  he'll  hate  me  more  as  he  grows  older. 
But  isn't  that  a  thing  to  avoid?  What  good  comes  into 
the  world  with  hate?  Can't  you  see  that  it's  your  place, 
Sabina,  to  use  your  influence  on  my  side?  " 

"  My  God !  "  she  said,  "  was  there  ever  such  a  selfish 
man  as  you !  Out  of  your  own  mouth  you  condemn  your- 
self, for  it's  your  inconvenience  and  discomfort  that's  trou- 
bling you  —  not  his  fate.  He's  a  living  witness  against 
you  —  a  running  sore  in  your  side  —  and  that's  why  you 
want  his  friendship,  to  ease  yourself  and  heal  your  con- 
science. Anybody  could  see  that." 

He  did  not  answer;  but  this  indictment  astonished  him. 
Could  she  still  be  so  stern  after  the  years  that  had  swept 
over  their  quarrel? 

"  You  wrong  me  there,  Sabina.  Indeed,  it's  not  for  my 
own  comfort  only,  but  much  more  largely  for  his  that  I 
am  so  much  concerned.  Surely  we  can  meet  on  the  com- 
mon ground  of  his  welfare  and  leave  the  rest?  " 

"What  common  ground  is  there?  Why  must  I  think 
your  friendship  and  your  money  are  the  best  possible 
things  for  him?  Why  should  I  advise  him  to  take  what 
I  refused  for  myself  twelve  years  and  more  ago?  You 
offered  me  your  friendship  and  your  money  —  as  a  substi- 
tute for  being  your  wife.  You  were  so  stark  ignorant  of 
the  girl  you'd  promised  to  marry,  that  you  offered  her 
cash  and  the  privilege  of  your  company  after  your  child 
was  born.  And  now  you  offer  your  child  cash  and  the 


THE  WALK  HOME  341 

privilege  of  your  company  —  that's  all.  You  deny  him 
your  name,  as  you  denied  his  mother  your  name ;  and  why 
should  he  pick  up  the  crumbs  from  your  table  that  his 
mother  would  have  starved  rather  than  eaten?  I've  never 
spoken  against  you  to  him  and  never  shall,  but  I'm  not 
a  fool  now  —  whatever  I  was  —  and  I'm  not  going  to  urge 
my  son  to  seek  you  and  put  his  little  heart  into  your  keep- 
ing; because  well  I  know  what  you  do  with  hearts.  I'm 
outside  your  life  and  so  is  he ;  and  if  he  likes  to  come  into 
your  life,  I  shan't  prevent  it.  I  couldn't  prevent  it.  He'll 
do  about  it  as  he  chooses,  when  he's  old  enough  to  measure 
it  up.  But  I'm  not  for  you,  or  against  you.  I'm  only 
the  suffering  sort,  not  the  fighting  sort.  You  know 
whether  you  deserve  the  love  and  worship  of  that  little, 
nameless  boy." 

He  was  struck  into  silence,  not  at  her  bitter  words,  but 
at  his  own  thoughts.  For  he  had  often  speculated  on 
future  speech  with  her  and  wondered  when  it  would  hap- 
pen and  what  it  would  concern.  He  had  hoped  that  she 
would  let  the  past  go  and  be  his  friend  again  on  another 
plane.  He  had  pictured  some  sort  of  amity  based  on  the 
old  romance.  He  had  desired  nothing  so  much  in  life 
as  a  friendly  understanding  and  the  permission  to  contrib- 
ute to  the  ease  and  comfort  of  Sabina  and  the  prosperity 
of  his  son.  He  hoped  that  in  course  of  time  and  faced  with 
the  rights  of  the  child,  she  would  come  round.  He  had 
pictured  her  coming  round.  But  now  it  seemed  that  he 
was  not  to  plan  their  future  on  his  own  terms.  What  he 
offered  had  not  grown  sweeter  to  her  senses.  ND  gifts 
that  he  could  devise  would  be  anything  but  poor  in  the 
light  of  the  unkind  past.  And  that  light  burned  stead- 
fastly still.  She  was  not  changed.  As  he  listened  to  her, 
it  seemed  that  she  was  merely  picking  up  the  threads 
where  they  were  dropped.  He  feared  that  if  he  stopped 
much  longer  beside  her,  she  would  come  back  to  the  old 
anger  and  wake  into  the  old  wrath. 

"  I'd  dearly  hoped  that  you  didn't  feel  like  that,  any 


342  THE  SPINNERS 

more.  You've  got  right  on  your  side  up  to  a  point, 
though  human  differences  are  so  involved  that  it  very  sel- 
dom happens  you  can  get  a  clean  cut  between  right  and 
wrong.  However,  the  time  is  past  for  arguing  about  that, 
Sabina.  Granted  you  are  right  in  your  personal  attitude, 
don't  carry  it  on  into  the  next  generation  and  assume  I 
cannot  even  yet,  after  all  these  years,  be  trusted  to  be- 
friend my  own  child." 

"  He's  only  your  child  in  nature.  He's  only  your  child 
because  your  blood's  in  his  veins.  He's  my  child,  not 
yours." 

"  But  if  I  want  to  make  him  mine?  If  I  want  to  lift 
him  up  and  assure  his  future?  If  I  want  to  assume  pa- 
ternity —  claim  it,  adopt  him  as  my  son  —  to  succeed  me 
some  day?  " 

"  He  must  decide  for  himself  whether  that's  the  high- 
water  mark  for  his  future  life  —  to  be  your  adopted  son. 
We  can't  have  it  all  our  own  way  in  this  world  —  not  even 
you,  I  suppose.  A  child  has  to  have  a  mother  as  well  as 
a  father,  and  a  mother's  got  her  rights  in  her  child.  Even 
the  law  allows  that." 

"  Who'd  deny  them,  Sabina?  You're  possessed,  as  you 
always  were,  with  the  significance  of  legal  marriage.  You 
don't  know  that  marriage  is  merely  a  human  contrivance 
and,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  an  infernally  clumsy  makeshift 
and  a  long-drawn  pretence.  Like  every  other  human 
shift,  it  is  a  thing  that  gets  out-grown  by  the  advance  of 
humanity  towards  higher  ideals  and  cleaner  liberties.  We 
are  approaching  a  time  when  the  edifice  will  be  shaken  to 
its  mouldering  foundations,  and  presently,  while  the 
Church  and  the  State  are  wrangling  and  quibbling,  as  they 
soon  must  be,  over  the  loathsome  divorce  laws,  these  man- 
darins will  wake  up  to  find  the  marriage  laws  themselves 
are  being  threatened  by  a  new  generation  sick  of  the  ar- 
chaic tomfoolery  that  controls  them.  If  you  could  only 
take  a  larger  view  and  not  let  yourself  be  bound  down  by 
your  own  experience -" 


THE  WALK  HOME  343 

"You'd  better  go,"  she  said.  "If  you'd  spoken  so 
twelve  years  ago  on  Golden  Cap,  and  not  hid  your  heart 
and  lied  to  me  and  promised  what  you  never  meant  to  per- 
form, I'd  not  be  walking  the  world  a  lonely,  despised 
woman  to-day.  And  law,  or  no  law,  the  law  of  the  natural 
child  is  the  law  of  the  land  —  cruel  and  vile  though  it  may 
be." 

"  I'll  go,  Sabina ;  but  I  must  say  what  I  want  to  say, 
first.  I  must  stand  up  for  Abel  —  even  against  you. 
Childish  impressions  and  dislikes  can  be  rooted  out  if  taken 
in  time ;  if  left  to  grow,  they  get  beyond  reach.  So  I  ask 
you  to  think  of  him.  And  don't  pretend  to  yourself  that 
my  friendship  is  dangerous,  or  can  do  him  anything  but 
good.  I'm  very  different  from  what  I  was.  Life  hasn't 
gone  over  me  for  nothing.  I  know  what's  right  well 
enough,  and  I  know  what  I  owe  your  son  and  my  son,  and 
I  want  to  make  up  to  him  and  more  than  make  up  to  him 
for  his  disadvantages.  Don't  prevent  me  from  doing  that. 
Give  me  a  chance,  Sabina.  Give  me  a  chance  to  be  a  good 
father  to  him.  Your  word  is  law  with  him,  and  if  you 
left  Bridetown  and  took  him  away  from  all  the  rumours 
and  unkind  things  he  may  hear  here,  it  would  let  his  mind 
grow  empty  of  me  for  a  few  years ;  and  then,  when  he's 
older  and  more  sensible,  I  think  I  could  win  him." 

"  You  want  us  away  from  this  place." 

"  I  do.  I  never  should  have  spoken  to  you  until  I  knew 
you  wished  it,  but  for  this  complication;  but  since  the 
boy  is  growing  up  prejudiced  against  me,  I  do  feel  that 
some  strong  effort  should  be  taken  to  nip  his  young  hatred 
in  the  bud  —  for  his  sake,  Sabina." 

"  Are  you  sure  it's  all  for  his  sake?  Because  I'm  not. 
They  say  you  think  of  nothing  on  God's  earth  but  ma- 
chinery nowadays,  and  look  to  machines  to  do  the  work  of 
hands,  and  speak  of  '  hands  '  when  you  ought  to  speak  of 
*  souls.'  They  say  if  you  could,  you'd  turn  out  all  the 
people  and  let  everything  be  done  by  steam  and  steel. 
There's  not  much  humanity  in  you,  I  reckon.  And  why 


344  THE  SPINNERS 

should  you  care  for  one  little,  unwanted  boy?  Perhaps, 
if  you  looked  deeper  into  yourself,  you'd  find  it  was  your 
own  peace,  rather  than  his,  that's  making  you  wish  us 
away  from  Bridetown.  At  any  rate,  that's  how  one  or 
two  have  seen  and  said  it,  when  they  heard  how  everybody 
was  at  me  to  go.  I've  had  to  live  down  the  past  for  long, 
slow,  heart-breaking  years  and  seen  the  fingers  pointed  at 
me;  and  now,  with  the  child  growing  up,  it's  your  turn 
I  daresay,  and  you  —  so  strong  and  masterful  —  have 
had  enough  of  pointing  fingers  and  mean  to  pack  us  out  of 
our  home  —  for  your  comfort." 

He  stared  at  her  in  the  gathering  dusk  and  stood  and 
uttered  a  great  sigh  from  deep  in  his  lungs. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Sabina  —  sorrier  than  I  am  for 
myself.  This  is  cruel.  I  didn't  know,  or  dream,  that 
time  had  stood  still  for  you  like  this." 

"  Time  ended  for  me  —  then." 

"  For  me  it  had  to  go  on.  I  must  think  about  this.  I 
didn't  guess  it  was  like  this  with  you.  Don't  think  I  want 
you  away ;  don't  think  you're  the  only  thorn  in  my  pillow 
and  that  I'm  not  used  to  pain  and  anxiety,  or  impatient 
of  all  the  implicit  meaning  of  your  lonely  life.  Stop,  if 
you  want  to  stop.  I'll  see  you  again,  Sabina,  please. 
Now  I'll  be  gone." 

When  he  had  mounted  his  horse  and  ridden  away  with- 
out more  words  from  her,  Abel,  who  had  been  lurking  along 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge,  crept  through  it  and  re- 
joined his  mother. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  some  time.  Then  the 
child  spoke. 

"  Fancy  your  talking  to  Mister  Ironsyde,  mother !  " 

"  He  talked  to  me." 

"  I  lay  you  dressed  him  down  then?  " 

"  I  told  him  the  truth,  Abel.  He  wants  everything  for 
nothing,  Mister  Ironsyde  does.  He  wants  you  —  for 
nothing." 


THE  WALK  HOME  345 

"  He's  a  beast,  and  I  hate  him,  and  he'll  know  I  hate  him 
some  day." 

"  Don't  hate  him.     He's  not  worth  hating." 

"  I  will  hate  him,  I  tell  you.  But  for  him  I'd  be  the 
great  man  in  Bridetown  when  he  dies.  Mister  Baggs  told 
me  that." 

"  You  mustn't  give  heed  to  what  people  say.  You've 
got  mother  to  look  after  you." 

The  boy  was  tired  and  spoke  no  more.  He  padded 
silently  along  beside  her  and  presently  she  heard  him  laugh 
to  himself.  His  thoughts  had  wandered  back  to  the  joy 
of  the  old  store. 

And  she  was  thinking  of  what  had  happened.  She,  too, 
even  as  Raymond,  had  imagined  what  speech  would  fall 
out  between  them  after  the  long  years  and  wondered  con- 
cerning the  form  it  would  take.  She  had  imagined  no  such 
conversation  as  this.  Half  of  her  regretted  it;  but  the 
other  half  was  glad.  He  had  gone  on,  but  it  was  well  that 
he  should  know  she  had  stood  still.  Could  there  be  any 
more  terrible  news  for  him  than  to  hear  that  she  had  stood 
still  —  to  feel  that  he  had  turned  a  living  woman  into  a 
pillar  of  stone? 


CHAPTER  VIII 

EPITAPH 

IT  cannot  be  determined  by  what  train  of  reasoning  Abel 
proceeded  from  one  unfortunate  experience  to  create  an- 
other, or  why  the  grief  incidental  on  a  loss  should  now 
have  nerved  him  to  an  evil  project  long  hidden  in  his 
thoughts.  But  so  it  was ;  he  suffered  a  sorrow  and,  under 
the  influence  of  it,  found  himself  strong  enough  to  attempt 
a  crime. 

There  was  no  sort  of  connection  between  the  two,  for 
nothing  could  bear  less  upon  his  evil  project  than  the 
death  of  Mr.  Churchouse's  old  cat ;  yet  thus  it  fell  out  and 
the  spirit  of  Abel  reacted  to  his  own  tears. 

He  came  home  one  day  from  school  to  learn  how  the 
sick  cat  prospered  and  was  told  to  go  into  the  study.  His 
mother  knew  the  child  to  be  much  wrapped  up  in  Peter 
Grim,  and  dreading  to  break  the  news,  begged  Mr.  Chur- 
chouse  to  do  so. 

"  Your  old  playfellow  has  left  us,  daddy,"  said  Ernest. 
"  I  am  glad  to  say  he  died  peacefully  while  you  were  at 
school.  I  think  he  only  had  a  very  little  bit  of  his  ninth 
and  last  life  left,  for  he  was  fifteen  years  old  and  had  suf- 
fered some  harsh  shocks." 

"  Dead?  "  asked  Abel  with  a  quivering  mouth. 

"  And  I  think  that  we  ought  to  give  him  a  nice  grave 
and  put  up  a  little  stone  to  his  memory." 

Thus  he  tried  to  distract  the  boy  from  his  loss. 

"  We  will  go  at  once,"  he  said,  "  and  choose  a  beautiful 
spot  in  the  garden  for  his  grave.  You  can  take  one  of 
those  pears  and  eat  it  while  we  search." 

But  Abel  shook  his  head. 

346 


EPITAPH  347 

"  Couldn't  eat  and  him  lying  dead,"  he  answered.  He 
was  crying. 

They  went  through  the  French  window  from  the  study. 

"  Do  you  know  any  particular  place  that  he  liked?  " 

Slowly  the  child's  sorrow  lessened  in  the  passing  interest 
of  finding  the  grave. 

"  You  must  dig  it,  please,  when  you  come  back  from 
afternoon  school." 

Abel  suggested  spots  not  practical  in  the  other's  opin- 
ion. 

"  A  more  secluded  site  would  be  better,"  he  declared. 
"  He  was  very  fond  of  shade.  In  fact,  rather  a  shady 
customer  himself  in  his  young  days.  But  not  a  word 
against  the  dead.  His  old  age  was  dignified  and  blame- 
less. You  don't  remember  the  time  when  he  used  to  steal 
chickens,  do  you?  " 

"  He  never  did  anything  wrong  that  I  know  of,"  said 
Abel.  "  And  he  always  came  and  padded  on  my  bed  of  a 
morning,  like  as  if  he  was  riding  a  bicycle  —  and  — 
and " 

He  wept  again. 

"  If  I  thought  anybody  had  poisoned  him,  I'd  poison 
them,"  he  said. 

"  Think  no  such  thing.  He  simply  died  because  he 
couldn't  go  on  living.  You  shall  have  another  cat,  and  it 
shall  be  your  own." 

"  I  don't  want  another  cat.  I  hate  all  other  cats  but 
him." 

They  found  a  spot  in  a  side  walk,  where  lily  of  the  val- 
ley grew,  and  later  in  the  day  Abel  dug  a  grave. 

Estelle  happened  to  visit  Mr.  Churchouse  and  he  ex- 
plained the  tragedy. 

"  If  you  attend  the  funeral,  the  boy  might  tolerate  you," 
he  said.  "  Once  break  down  his  suspicion  and  get  to  his 
wayward  heart,  good  would  come  of  it  He  is  feeling  this 
very  much  and  in  a  melting  mood." 

"  I'll  stop,  if  he  won't  be  vexed." 


348  THE  SPINNERS 

Mr.  Churchouse  went  into  the  garden  and  praised  Abel's 
energies. 

"  A  beautiful  grave ;  and  it  is  right  and  proper  that 
Peter  Grim  should  lie  here,  because  he  often  hunted  here." 

"  He  caught  the  mice  that  live  in  holes  at  the  bottom  of 
the  wall,"  said  Abel. 

"  If  you  are  ready,  we  will  now  bury  him.  Mother  must 
come  to  the  funeral,  and  Estelle  must  come,  because  she 
was  very,  very  fond  of  poor  Peter  and  she  would  think 
it  most  unkind  of  us  if  we  buried  him  while  she  was  not 
there.  She  will  bring  some  flowers  for  the  grave,  and  you 
must  get  some  flowers,  too,  Abel.  We  must,  in  fact,  each 
put  a  flower  on  him." 

The  boy  frowned  at  mention  of  Estelle,  but  forgot  her 
in  considering  the  further  problem. 

"  He  liked  the  mint  bed.     I'll  put  mint  on  him,"  he  said. 

"  An  excellent  thought.  And  I  shall  pluck  one  of  the 
big  magnolias  myself." 

Returning,  Ernest  informed  Estelle  that  she  must  be  at 
the  funeral  and  she  went  home  for  a  bunch  of  blossoms  to 
grace  the  tomb.  She  picked  hot-house  flowers,  hoping  to 
propitiate  Abel.  There  woke  a  great  hope  in  her  to  win 
him.  But  she  failed. 

He  glowered  at  her  when  she  appeared  walking  beside 
his  mother,  while  before  them  marched  Mr.  Churchouse 
carrying  the  departed.  When  the  funeral  was  ended  and 
Abel  left  alone,  he  sat  down  by  the  grave,  cried,  worked 
himself  into  a  very  mournful  mood  and  finally  exhibited 
anger.  Why  he  was  angry  he  did  not  know,  or  against 
whom  his  temper  grew ;  but  his  great  loss  woke  resentment. 
When  he  felt  miserable,  somebody  was  always  blamed  by 
him  for  making  him  feel  so.  No  immediate  cause  for  quar- 
rel with  anything  smaller  than  fate  challenged  his  unset- 
tled mind ;  then  his  eyes  fixed  upon  Estelle's  flowers,  and 
since  Estelle  was  always  linked  in  his  thoughts  with  his 
father,  and  his  father  represented  an  enemy,  he  began  to 
hate  the  flowers  and  wish  them  away.  He  heard  his 


EPITAPH  349 

mother  calling  him,  but  hid  from  her  and  when  she  was 
silent,  came  back  to  the  grave  again. 

Meantime  Estelle  and  Ernest  drank  tea  and  spoke  of 
Abel. 

"  When  grief  has  relaxed  the  emotions,  we  may  often 
get  in  a  kindly  word  and  give  an  enemy  something  to  think 
about  afterwards,"  he  said.  "  But  the  boy  was  obdurate. 
He  is  the  victim  of  confused  thinking  —  precocious  to  a 
degree  in  some  directions,  but  very  childish  in  others.  At 
times  he  alarms  me.  Poor  boy.  You  must  try  again  to 
win  him.  The  general  sentiment  is  that  the  young  should 
be  patient  with  the  old ;  but  for  my  part  I  think  it  is  quite 
as  difficult  sometimes  for  the  old  to  be  patient  with  the 
young." 

He  turned  to  his  desk. 

"  When  I  found  my  dear  cat  was  not,  I  composed  an 
epitaph  for  him,  Estelle.  I  design  to  have  it  scratched  on 
a  stone  and  set  above  his  sleeping  place." 

"  Do  let  me  hear  it,"  she  said,  and  Ernest,  fired  with 
the  joy  of  composition,  read  his  memorial  verse. 

"  Criticise  freely,"  he  said.  "  I  value  your  criticism  and 
you  understand  poetry.  Not  that  this  is  a  poem  — 
merely  an  epitaph ;  but  it  may  easily  be  improved,  I  doubt 
not." 

He  put  on  his  glasses  and  read: 

"'Ended  his  mingled  joy  and  strife, 
Here  lies  the  dust  of  Peter  Grim. 
Though  life  was  very  kind  to  him, 
He  proved  not  very  kind  to  life.'" 

Estelle  applauded. 

"  Perfect,"  she  said.  "  You  must  have  it  carved  on  his 
tombstone." 

"  I  think  it  meets  the  case.  I  may  have  been  prejudiced 
in  my  affection  for  him,  owing  to  his  affection  for  me.  He 
came  to  me  at  the  age  of  five  weeks,  and  his  attitude  to  me 
from  the  first  was  devoted." 


350  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Cats  have  such  cajoling  ways." 

"  He  was  not  himself  honest,  yet,  I  think,  saw  the  value 
of  honesty  in  others.  Plain  dealers  are  a  temptation  to 
rogues  and  none,  as  a  rule,  is  a  better  judge  of  an  honest 
man  than  a  dishonest  cat." 

"  He  wasn't  quite  a  rogue,  was  he?  " 

"  He  knew  that  I  am  respected,  and  he  traded  on  my 
reputation.  His  life  has  been  spared  on  more  than  one 
occasion  for  my  sake." 

"  On  the  whole  he  was  not  a  very  model  cat,  I'm  afraid," 
said  Estelle. 

"  Yes,  that  is  just  what  he  was :  a  model  —  cat." 

They  went  out  to  look  at  the  grave  again,  and  some- 
thing hurried  away  through  the  bushes  as  they  did  so. 

"  Friends,  or  possibly  enemies,"  suggested  Mr.  Chur- 
chouse,  but  Estelle,  sharper-eyed,  saw  Abel  disappear. 
She  also  noted  that  her  bouquet  of  flowers  had  gone  from 
Peter's  mound. 

"  Oh  dear,  he's  taken  away  my  offering,"  she  said. 

"  What  a  hard-hearted  boy !  Are  there  no  means  of 
winning  him?  " 

They  spoke  of  Abel  and  his  mother. 

"  We  all  regretted  her  decision  to  stop.  It  would  have 
been  better  if  she  had  gone  away." 

"  Raymond  saw  her  some  time  ago." 

"  So  she  told  me ;  and  so  did  he.  Misfortune  seems  to 
dog  the  situation,  for  I  believe  Sabina  was  half  in  a  mind 
to  take  our  advice  until  that  meeting.  Then  she  changed. 
Apparently  she  misunderstood  him." 

"  Ray  was  very  troubled.  Somehow  he  made  Sabina 
angry  —  the  last  thing  he  meant  to  do.  He's  sorry  now 
that  he  spoke.  She  thought  he  was  considering  himself, 
and  he  really  was  thinking  for  Abel." 

"  We  must  go  on  being  patient.  Next  year  I  shall  urge 
her  to  let  Abel  be  sent  to  a  boarding-school.  That  will  be 
a  great  advantage  every  way." 

So  they  talked  and  meantime  Abel's  sorrow  ran  into  the 


EPITAPH  351 

channels  of  evil.  It  may  be  that  the  presence  of  Estelle 
had  determined  this  misfortune ;  but  he  was  ripe  for  it  and 
his  feeling  prompted  him  to  let  his  misery  run  over,  that 
others  might  drink  of  the  cup.  He  had  long  contemplated 
a  definite  deed  and  planned  a  stroke  against  Raymond 
Ironsyde ;  but  he  had  postponed  the  act,  partly  from  fear, 
partly  because  the  thought  of  it  was  a  pleasure.  In- 
verted instincts  and  a  mind  fouled  by  promptings  from 
without,  led  him  to  understand  that  Ironsyde  was  his  moth- 
er's enemy  and  therefore  his  own.  Baggs  had  told  him 
so  in  a  malignant  moment  and  Abel  believed  it.  To  injure 
his  enemy  was  to  honour  his  mother.  And  the  time  had 
come  to  do  so.  He  was  ripe  for  it  to-night.  He  told 
himself  that  Peter  Grim  would  have  approved  the  blow, 
and  with  his  mind  a  chaos  of  mistaken  opinions,  at  once 
ludicrous  and  mournful,  he  set  himself  to  his  task.  He 
ate  his  supper  as  usual  and  went  to  bed;  but  when  the 
house  was  silent  in  sleep,  he  rose,  put  on  his  clothes  and 
hastened  out  of  doors.  He  departed  by  a  window  on  the 
ground  floor  and  slipped  into  a  night  of  light  and  shade, 
for  the  moon  was  full  and  rode  through  flying  clouds. 

The  boy  felt  a  youthful  malefactor's  desire  to  get  his 
task  done  as  swiftly  as  possible.  He  was  impatient  to  feel 
the  deed  behind  him.  He  ran  through  the  deserted  village, 
crossed  a  little  bridge  over  the  river,  and  then  approached 
the  Mill  by  a  meadow  below  them.  Thus  he  always  came 
to  see  Mr.  Baggs,  or  anybody  who  was  friendly. 

The  roof  of  the  works  shone  in  answer  to  fitful  moon- 
light, and  they  presented  to  his  imagination  a  strange  and 
unfamiliar  appearance.  Under  the  sleight  of  the  hour 
they  were  changed  and  towered  majestically  above  him. 
The  Mill  slept  and  in  the  creepy  stillness,  the  river's  voice, 
which  he  had  hardly  heard  till  now,  was  magnified  to  a 
considerable  murmur.  From  far  away  down  the  valley 
came  the  song  of  the  sea,  where  a  brisk,  westerly  wind 
threw  the  waves  on  the  shingle. 

A  feeling  of  awe  numbed  him,  but  it  was  not  powerful 


352  THE  SPINNERS 

enough  to  arrest  his  purpose.  His  plans  had  been  ma- 
tured for  many  days. 

He  meant  to  burn  down  the  Mill. 

Nothing  was  easier  and  a  match  in  the  inflammable  ma- 
terial, of  which  the  hackler's  shop  was  usually  full,  must 
quickly  involve  the  mass  of  the  buildings. 

It  was  fitting  that  where  he  had  been  impregnated  by 
Mr.  Baggs  with  much  lawless  opinion,  Abel  should  give 
expression  to  his  evil  purpose.  From  the  tar-pitched 
work-room  of  the  hackler,  fire  would  very  quickly  leap  to 
the  main  building  against  which  it  stood,  and  might,  in- 
deed, under  the  strong  wind,  involve  the  stores  also  and 
John  Best's  dwelling  between  them.  But  it  was  fated 
otherwise.  A  very  small  incident  served  to  prevent  a  con- 
siderable catastrophe,  and  when  Abel  broke  the  window 
of  the  hackling  room,  turned  the  hasp,  raised  it,  and  got 
in,  a  man  lay  awake  in  pain  not  thirty  yards  distant. 
The  lad  lighted  a  candle,  which  he  had  brought  with  him, 
and  it  was  then,  while  he  collected  a  heap  of  long  hemp 
and  prepared  to  set  it  on  fire,  that  John  Best,  in  torture 
from  toothache,  went  downstairs  for  a  mouthful  of  brandy. 

Upon  the  staircase  he  passed  a  window  and,  glancing 
through  it,  he  saw  a  light  in  the  hackling  shop.  It  was 
not  the  moon  and  meant  a  presence  there  that  needed  in- 
stant explanation.  Mr.  Best  forgot  his  toothache,  called 
his  sailor  son,  who  happened  to  be  holiday-making  at 
home,  and  hastened  as  swiftly  and  silently  as  possible  over 
the  bridge  to  the  Mill.  John  Best  the  younger,  an  agile 
man  of  thirty,  may  be  said  to  have  saved  the  situation, 
for  he  was  far  quicker  than  his  father  could  be  and  man- 
aged to  anticipate  the  disaster  by  moments.  Half  a  min- 
ute more  might  have  made  all  the  difference,  for  the  heap 
of  loose  hemp  and  stricks  once  ignited,  no  power  on  earth 
could  have  saved  a  considerable  conflagration ;  but  the 
culprit  had  his  back  turned  to  the  window  and  was  still 
busily  piling  the  tow  when  Best  and  his  son  looked  in 
upon  him?  and  the  sailor  was  already  half  through  the 


EPITAPH  353 

window  before  Abel  perceived  him.  The  youngster  dashed 
for  his  candle,  but  he  was  too  late,  a  pair  of  strong  hands 
gripped  his  neck  roughly  enough,  and  he  fainted  from  the 
shock. 

They  took  him  out  as  he  had  gone  in,  for  the  door  was 
locked  and  Levi  Baggs  had  the  key.  Then  the  sailor  went 
back  to  his  home,  dressed  himself  and  started  for  a  police- 
man, while  Mr.  Best  kept  guard  over  Abel. 

When  he  came  to  his  senses,  the  boy  found  himself  in 
the  moonlight  with  a  dozen  turns  of  stout  fisherman's 
twine  round  his  hands  and  ankles  The  foreman  stood  over 
him,  and  now  that  the  house  was  roused,  his  wife  had 
brought  John  a  pair  of  trousers  and  a  great  coat,  for  he 
was  in  his  night  shirt. 

"  You'll  catch  your  death,"  she  said. 

"  It's  only  by  God's  mercy  we  didn't  all  catch  our 
death,"  he  answered.  "  Here's  Sabina  Dinnett's  boy  plot- 
ted to  destroy  the  works,  and  we've  yet  to  find  whether  he's 
the  tool  of  others,  or  has  done  the  deed  on  his  own." 

"  On  my  own  I  did  it,"  declared  Abel;  "  and  I'll  do  it 
yet." 

u  You  shut  your  mouth,  you  imp  of  Satan !  "  cried  the 
exasperated  man.  "  Not  a  word,  you  scamp.  You've 
done  for  yourself  now,  and  everybody  knew  you'd  come  to 
it,  sooner  or  later." 

In  half  an  hour  Abel  was  locked  up,  and  when  Mr. 
Baggs  heard  next  morning  concerning  the  events  of  the 
night,  he  expressed  the  utmost  surprise  and  indignation. 

"  Young  dog  1  And  after  the  friend  I've  been  to  him. 
Blood  will  tell.  That's  his  lawless  father  coming  out  in 
the  wretch,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    FUTURE    OF    ABEL 

ISSUES  beyond  human  sight  or  calculation  lay  involved  in 
the  thing  that  Abel  Dinnett  had  done.  He  had  cast  down 
a  challenge  to  society,  and  everything  depended  on  how 
society  answered  that  challenge.  Not  only  did  the  child's 
own  future  turn  on  what  must  follow,  but  vital  matters 
for  those  who  were  called  to  act  hung  on  their  line  of 
action.  That,  however,  they  could  not  know.  The  tre- 
mendous significance  of  the  sinner's  future  training  and 
the  result  of  what  must  now  happen  to  him  lay  far  beyond 
their  prescience. 

It  became  an  immediate  question  whether  Abel  might,  or 
might  not,  be  saved  from  the  punishment  he  had  deserved. 
Beyond  that  rose  another  problem,  not  less  important,  and 
his  father  doubted  whether,  for  the  child's  own  sake,  it 
would  be  well  to  intervene.  Waldron  strongly  agreed  with 
him ;  but  Estelle  did  not,  and  she  used  her  great  influence 
on  the  side  of  intervention.  Miss  Ironsyde  and  Ernest 
Churchouse  were  also  of  her  opinion.  Indeed,  all  con- 
cerned, save  his  mother  and  Arthur  Waldron,  begged  Ray- 
mond to  interfere,  if  possible. 

He  did  not  decide  immediately. 

"  The  boy  will  be  sent  to  a  reformatory  for  five  years 
if  I  do  nothing,"  he  told  Estelle,  "  and  that's  probably  the 
very  best  thing  on  earth  that  can  happen  to  him.  It  will 
put  the  fear  of  God  into  him  and  possibly  obliterate  his 
hate  of  me.  He's  bad  all  through,  I'm  afraid." 

"  No  he  isn't  —  far  from  it.  That's  the  point,"  she 
argued.  "  These  things  are  a  legacy  —  a  hateful  legacy 
from  his  grandmother.  Mister  Churchouse  knows  him 

354 


THE  FUTURE  OF  ABEL  355 

far  better  than  anybody  else,  and  he  says  there  is  great 
sensibility  and  power  of  feeling  in  him.  He's  tender  to 
animals." 

"  That's  not  much  good  if  he's  going  to  be  tough  to  me. 
Tell  me  why  his  mother  doesn't  come  to  me  about  him." 

"  Mister  Churchouse  says  she's  in  a  strange  state  and 
doesn't  seem  to  care.  She  told  him  the  sins  of  the  fathers 
were  being  visited  on  the  children." 

66  The  sins  of  the  fathers  are  being  visited  on  the  fathers, 
I  should  think." 

"  That's  fair  at  any  rate,"  she  said.  "  I  know  just 
how  you  must  feel.  You've  been  so  patient,  Ray,  and 
taken  such  a  lot  of  trouble.  But  I  believe  it's  all  part  of 
the  fate  that  links  you  to  the  child.  His  future  is  made 
your  business  now,  whether  you  will  or  no.  It  is  thrust 
upon  you.  Nobody  but  you  would  be  listened  to  by  the 
law;  but  you  can  give  an  undertaking  and  do  something 
to  save  him  from  the  horror  of  a  reformatory." 

Estelle  and  Raymond  were  having  tea  together  at  '  The 
Seven  Stars  '  during  this  conversation.  Her  father  was 
returning  home  to  Bridport  by  an  evening  train  and  she 
had  driven  to  meet  him.  Nelly  Legg  waited  upon  them, 
and  knowing  the  matter  occupied  many  tongues,  Raymond 
spoke  to  her. 

"  You  can  guess  this  is  a  puzzler,  Nelly,"  he  said. 
"  What  would  you  do?  Miss  Waldron  says  it's  up  to  me 
to  try  and  get  the  boy  off;  but  the  question  is  shall  I  be 
serving  him  best  that  way  ?  " 

"  My  husband  and  me  have  gone  over  it,"  she  confessed ; 
"  of  course,  everybody  has  done  so.  You  can't  pretend 
the  people  aren't  interested,  and  if  one  has  asked  Job  his 
opinion,  a  hundred  have.  People  bring  him  their  puzzles 
and  troubles  as  a  sort  of  habit.  From  a  finger  ache  to  the 
loss  of  a  fortune  they  pour  their  difficulties  into  his  wise 
head,  and  for  patience  he's  a  very  good  second  to  the 
first  of  the  name.  And  I  may  tell  you  a  curious  thing, 
Mister  Raymond,  for  I've  seen  it  happen.  As  the  folks 


356  THE  SPINNERS 

talk  and  talk  to  Legg,  they  get  more  and  more  cheerful 
and  he  gets  more  and  more  depressed.  Then,  after 
they've  let  off  all  their  woes  on  the  man,  sometimes  they'll 
have  the  grace  to  apologise  and  say  it's  too  bad  to  give 
him  such  a  dose.  And  they  always  wind  up  by  assuring 
him  he's  done  them  a  world  of  good;  but  they  never  stop 
to  think  what  they  have  done  to  him." 

"  Vampires  of  sympathy  —  blood-suckers,"  declared 
Raymond.  "  Such  kindly  men  as  your  husband  must  pay 
for  their  virtues,  Nelly." 

"  Sympathetic  people  have  to  work  hard,"  added  Es- 
telle. 

"  Not  that  he  wants  the  lesser  people's  gratitude,  so 
long  as  he  has  my  admiration,"  explained  Mrs.  Legg. 
"  And  that  he  always  will  have,  for  he's  more  than  human 
in  some  particulars.  And  only  I  know  the  full  extent  of 
his  wonders.  A  master  of  stratagems  too  —  the  iron 
hand  in  the  velvet  glove  —  though  if  you  was  to  tell  half 
the  people  in  Bridport  he's  got  an  iron  hand,  they  never 
would  believe  it.  And  as  to  this  sad  affair,  he's  given  his 
opinion  and  won't  change  it.  You  may  think  him  right  or 
wrong,  but  so  it  is." 

"  And  what  does  he  say,  Nelly?  " 

"  He  says  the  child  may  be  saved  as  a  brand  from  the 
burning  if  the  law  takes  its  course.  He  thinks  that  if 
you,  or  anybody,  was  to  go  bail  for  the  child  and  save 
him  from  the  consequences  of  his  wicked  deed,  that  a  great 
mistake  would  be  made.  In  justice  to  you  I  should  say 
that  they  don't  all  agree.  Some  hope  you'll  interfere  — 
mostly  women." 

"  What  do  you  think?  "  asked  Raymond. 

"  As  Missis  Legg,  I  think  the  same  as  him ;  and  I'll  tell 
you  another  thing  you  may  not  know.  The  young  boy's 
mother  is  by  no  means  sure  if  she  don't  feel  the  same. 
My  married  niece  is  her  friend,  and  last  time  she  saw  her, 
Sabina  spoke  about  it.  From  what  Sarah  says  I  think 
she  feels  it  might  be  better  for  the  boy  to  put  him  away. 


THE  FUTURE  OF  ABEL          357 

I  can't  say  as  to  her  motives.  Naturally  she's  only  con- 
cerned as  to  the  welfare  of  the  child  and  knows  he'll  never 
be  trained  to  any  good  where  he  is." 

That  Sabina  had  expressed  so  strong  an  opinion  inter- 
ested Raymond.  But  Estelle  refused  to  believe  it. 

"  I'm  sure  Sarah  misunderstood,"  she  said.  "  Sabina 
couldn't  mean  that." 

They  went  to  the  station  presently,  met  Arthur  Wal- 
dron  and  drove  him  home.  Estelle  urged  Raymond  to  see 
Sabina  before  he  decided  what  to  do ;  and  since  little  time 
was  left  before  he  must  act,  he  went  to  '  The  Magnolias  ' 
that  evening  and  begged  for  an  interview. 

Sabina  had  a  small  sitting-room  of  her  own  in  which 
evidence  of  Abel  did  not  lack.  Drawings  that  he  had  made 
at  school  were  hung  on  the  walls,  and  a  steam-engine  —  a 
present  from  Mr.  Churchouse  on  his  twelfth  birthday  — 
stood  upon  the  mantelshelf. 

"  It's  just  this,  Sabina,"  he  said;  "I  won't  keep  you; 
but  I  feel  the  future  of  the  boy  is  in  the  balance  and  I 
can't  do  anything  without  hearing  your  opinion.  And 
first  I  want  you  to  understand  I  have  quite  forgiven  him. 
He's  not  all  to  blame.  Certain  fixed,  false  ideas  he  has 
got.  They  were  driven  into  him  at  his  most  impression- 
able age ;  and  until  his  reason  asserts  itself  no  doubt  he'll 
go  on  hating  me.  But  that'll  all  come  right.  I  don't 
blame  you  for  it." 

"  You  should  blame  me  all  the  same,"  she  said.  "  It's 
as  much  me  in  his  blood  as  his  grandmother  at  his  ear, 
that  turned  him  to  hate  you.  I  don't  hate  you  now  —  or 
anybody,  or  anything.  I've  not  got  strength  and  fight  in 
me  now  to  hate,  or  love  either.  But  I  did  hate  you  and  I 
was  full  of  hate  before  he  was  born,  and  the  milk  was  cur- 
dled with  hate  that  fed  him.  Now  I  don't  care  what  hap- 
pens. I  can't  prevent  the  future  of  my  child  from  shap- 
ing itself.  The  time  for  preventing  things  and  doing 
things  and  fixing  character  and  getting  self-respect  is  over 
and  past.  What  he's  done  is  the  natural  result  of  what 


358  THE  SPINNERS 

was  done  to  him.  And  who'll  blame  him?  Who'll  blame 
me  for  being  bad  and  indifferent  —  wicked  if  you  like? 
Life's  made  me  so  —  hard  —  cold  to  others.  But  I  should 
have  been  different  if  I'd  had  love  and  common  justice. 
So  would  he.  It's  natural  in  him  to  hate  you;  and  now 
the  poor  little  wretch  will  get  what  he  deserves  —  same  as 
his  mother  did  before  him,  and  so  all's  said.  What  we 
deserved,  that's  all." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  I'm  very  willing  to  fight  for  him  if 
I  can  do  him  good  by  fighting.  The  situation  is  unusual. 
You  probably  do  not  realise  what  this  means  to  me.  Is 
there  to  be  no  finality  in  your  resentment  ?  Honestly  I  get 
rather  tired  of  it." 

"  I  got  rather  tired  of  it  twelve  years  ago." 

"  You're  not  prepared  to  help  me,  then,  or  make  any 
suggestion  —  for  the  child's  sake?  " 

"  I'll  not  help,  or  hinder.  I've  been  looking  on  so  long 
now  that  I'm  only  fit  to  look  on.  My  child  has  everything 
against  him,  and  he  knows  it ;  and  you  can't  save  him 
from  his  fate  any  more  than  I  can.  So  what's  the  good 
of  wasting  time  talking  as  though  you  could  ?  Fate's  fate 
—  beyond  us." 

"  We  make  our  own  fate.  I  may  tell  you  that  I  should 
have  been  largely  influenced  by  you,  Sabina.  The  ques- 
tion admits  of  different  answers  and  I  recognise  my  re- 
sponsibility. Some  say  that  I  must  intervene  now  and 
some  say  that  I  should  not." 

"  And  the  only  one  not  asked  to  give  an  opinion  is  Abel 
himself.  A  child  is  never  asked  about  his  own  hopes  and 
fears." 

"  We  know  what  his  hopes  were  —  to  burn  down  the 
Mill.  So  we  may  take  it  for  the  present  he's  not  the  best 
judge  of  what's  good  for  him." 

"  I've  done  my  duty  to  him,"  she  said,  "  and  that's  all  I 
could  do.  I'm  very  sorry  for  him,  and  what  love  I've  got 
for  him  is  the  sort  that's  akin  to  pity.  It's  contrary  to 
reason  that  I  should  take  any  deep  joy  in  him,  or  worship 


THE  FUTURE  OF  ABEL          359 

the  ground  he  walks  on,  like  other  mothers  do  towards  their 
children.  For  he  stands  there  before  me  for  ever  as  the 
sign  and  mark  of  my  own  failure  in  life.  But  I  don't  think 
any  less  of  him  for  trying  to  destroy  the  works.  I'd  de- 
cided about  him  long  ago." 

Raymond  found  nothing  to  the  purpose  in  this  illusive 
talk.  It  argued  curious  impassivity  in  Sabina  he  thought, 
and  he  felt  jarred  to  find  the  conventional  attitude  of 
mother  to  son  was  not  acknowledged  by  her.  Estelle  had 
showed  far  more  feeling,  had  taken  a  much  more  active 
part  in  the  troubles  of  Abel.  Estelle  had  spared  no  pains 
in  arguing  for  the  child  and  imploring  Ironsyde  to  exhaust 
his  credit  on  Abel's  behalf. 

He  told  Sabina  this  and  she  explained  it. 

"  I  dare  say  she  has.  A  woman  can  see  why,  though 
doubtless  you  cannot.  It  isn't  because  he's  himself  that 
she's  active  for  him;  and  it  isn't  because  he's  my  child, 
either.  It's  because  he's  your  child.  Your  blood's  sacred 
in  her  eyes  you  may  be  sure.  She  was  a  child  herself  when 
you  ruined  me;  she  forgets  all  that.  Why?  Because 
ever  since  she's  grown  to  womanhood  and  intelligence  to 
note  what  happens,  you  have  been  a  saint  of  virtue  and  the 
friend  of  the  weak  and  the  champion  of  the  poor.  So,  of 
course,  she  feels  that  such  a  great  and  good  man's  son  only 
wants  his  father's  care  to  make  him  great  and  good  too." 

"  To  think  you  can  talk  so  after  all  these  years,  Sa- 
bina," he  said. 

"How  should  I  talk?  What  are  the  years  to  me? 
You  never  knew,  or  understood,  or  respected  the  stuff  I 
was  made  of;  and  you'll  never  understand  your  child, 
either,  or  the  stuff  he's  made  of;  and  you  can  tell  the 
young  woman  that  loves  you  so  much,  that  she's  wrong  — 
as  wrong  as  can  be.  Nothing's  gained  by  your  having  any 
hand  in  Abel's  future.  You  won't  win  him  with  sugar- 
plums now,  any  more  than  you  will  with  money  later  on. 
He's  made  of  different  stuff  from  you  —  and  better  stuff 
and  rarer  stuff.  There's  very  little  of  you  in  him  and 


360  THE  SPINNERS 

very  little  of  me,  either.  He's  himself,  and  the  fineness 
that  might  have  made  him  a  useful  man  under  fair  condi- 
tions, is  turned  to  foulness  now.  Your  child  was  ruined 
in  the  making  —  not  by  me,  but  by  you  yourself.  And 
such  is  his  mind  that  he  knows  it  already.  So  be  warned 
and  let  him  alone." 

"  If  anything  could  make  me  agree  with  Miss  Waldron, 
Sabina,  it  would  be  what  you  tell  me,"  he  answered.  "  And 
if  I  can  live  to  show  you  that  you  are  terribly  wrong  I 
shall  be  glad." 

"  That  you  never  will." 

"  At  least  you'll  do  nothing  to  come  between  us  ?  " 

"  I  never  have.  I  was  very  careful  not  to  do  that.  If 
he  can  look  at  you  as  a  friend  presently,  I  shan't  prevent 
it.  I  shan't  warn  him  against  you  —  though  I've  warned 
you  against  him.  The  weak  use  poisonous  weapons,  be- 
cause they  haven't  got  the  strength  to  use  weapons  of 
might.  That's  why  he  tried  to  burn  down  the  Mill.  He'll 
be  stronger  some  day." 

"  He's  clever,  I'm  told,  and  if  we  can  only  interest  him 
in  some  intelligent  business  and  find  what  his  bent  is,  we 
may  fill  his  mind  to  good  purpose.  At  any  rate,  I  thank 
you  for  leaving  me  free  to  act.  Now  I  can  decide  what 
course  to  take.  It  was  impossible  until  I  heard  what  you 
felt." 

She  said  no  more  and  he  left  her  to  make  up  his  mind. 
Doubt  persisted  there,  for  he  still  suspected,  that  five  years 
in  a  reformatory  might  be  better  for  Abel  than  anything 
else.  Such  an  experience  he  felt  would  develop  his  charac- 
ter, crush  his  malignant  instincts  and  leave  him  only  too 
ready  to  accept  his  father  as  his  friend;  but  against  such 
a  fate  for  Abel,  was  his  own  relationship  to  the  culprit, 
and  the  question  whether  Raymond  would  not  suffer  very 
far-reaching  censure  if  he  made  no  effort  to  come  to  the 
boy's  rescue.  Truest  wisdom  might  hold  a  severe  course 
of  correction  very  desirable;  but  sentiment  and  public 


THE  FUTURE  OF  ABEL          361 

opinion  would  be  likely  to  condemn  him  if  he  did  nothing. 
People  would  say  that  he  had  taken  a  harsh  revenge  on  his 
own,  erring  child. 

He  fumed  at  a  situation  intolerable  and  was  finally 
moved  to  accept  Estelle's  advice.  From  no  considerations 
for  Bridport,  or  Bridetown,  did  she  urge  his  active  inter- 
vention. For  Abel's  sake  she  begged  it  and  was  more  in- 
sistent than  before,  when  she  heard  of  Sabina's  indifference. 

"  He's  yours,"  she  said.  "You've  been  so  splendidly 
patient.  So  do  go  on  being  patient,  and  the  result  will  be 
a  fine  character  and  a  reward  for  you.  It  isn't  what  peo- 
ple would  say ;  but  if  he  goes  to  a  reformatory,  far  from 
wanting  you  and  your  help  when  he  comes  out  again, 
he'll  know  in  the  future  that  you  might  have  saved  him  from 
it  and  given  him  a  first-rate  education  among  good,  up- 
right boys.  But  if  he  went  to  a  reformatory,  he  must 
meet  all  sorts  of  difficult  boys,  like  himself,  and  they 
wouldn't  help  him,  and  he'd  come  out  harder  than  he 
went  in." 

His  heart  yielded  to  her  at  last,  even  though  his  head 
still  doubted,  for  Raymond's  attitude  to  Estelle  had  begun 
insensibly  to  change  since  his  accident  in  the  cricket  field. 
From  that  time  he  won  a  glimpse  of  things  that  apparently 
others  already  knew.  Sabina,  in  their  recorded  conversa- 
tion, had  bluntly  told  him  that  Estelle  loved  him;  and 
while  the  man  dismissed  the  idea  as  an  absurdity,  it  was 
certain  that  from  this  period  he  began  to  grow  somewhat 
more  sentimentally  interested  in  her.  The  interest  de- 
veloped very  slowly,  but  this  business  of  Abel  brought 
them  closer  together,  for  she  haunted  him  during  the  days 
before  the  child  came  to  his  trial,  and  when,  perhaps  for 
her  sake  as  much  as  any  other  reason,  Raymond  decided 
to  undertake  his  son's  defence,  her  gratitude  was  great. 

He  made  it  clear  to  her  that  she  was  responsible  for  his 
determination. 

"I've   let    you    over-rule    me,    Estelle,"    he    told    her. 


362  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Don't  forget  it,  Chicky.  And  now  that  the  boy  will,  I 
hope,  be  in  my  hands,  you  must  strengthen  my  hands  all 
you  can  and  help  me  to  make  him  my  friend." 

She  promised  thankfully. 

"  Be  sure  I  shall  never,  never  forget,"  she  said,  "  and 
I  shall  never  be  happy  till  he  knows  what  you  really  are, 
and  what  you  wish  him.  You  must  win  him  now.  It's 
surely  contrary  to  all  natural  instinct  if  you  can't.  The 
mere  fact  that  you  can  forgive  him  for  what  he  tried  to  do, 
ought  to  soften  his  heart." 

"  I  trust  more  to  you  than  myself,"  he  answered. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    ADVERTISEMENT 

RAYMOND  IRONSYDE  had  his  way,  and  local  justices,  famil- 
iar with  the  situation,  were  content  not  to  commit  Abel, 
but  leave  the  boy  in  his  father's  hands.  He  took  all  re- 
sponsibility and,  when  the  time  came,  sent  his  son  to  a 
good  boarding-school  at  Yeovil.  Sabina  so  far  met  him 
that  the  operation  was  conducted  in  her  name,  and  since 
the  case  of  Abel  had  been  kept  out  of  local  papers,  his 
fellow  scholars  knew  nothing  of  his  errors.  But  his  diffi- 
culties of  character  were  explained  to  those  now  set  over 
him,  and  they  were  warned  that  his  moral  education,  while 
attempted,  had  not  so  far  been  successful. 

Perhaps  only  one  of  those  concerned  much  sympathised 
with  Ironsyde  in  his  painful  ordeal.  Those  who  did  not 
openly  assert  that  he  was  reaping  what  he  had  sown, 
were  indifferent.  Some,  like  Mr.  Motyer,  held  the  inci- 
dent a  joke;  one  only  possessed  imagination  sufficient  to 
guess  what  these  public  events  must  mean  to  the  father 
of  Abel.  Indeed,  Estelle  certainly  suffered  more  for  Ray- 
mond than  he  suffered  for  himself.  She  pictured  poig- 
nantly his  secret  thoughts  and  sorrows  at  this  challenge, 
and  she  could  guess  what  it  must  be  to  have  a  child  who 
hated  you.  In  her  maiden  mind,  however,  the  man's  emo- 
tions were  exaggerated,  and  she  made  the  mistake  of  sup- 
posing that  this  grievous  thing  must  be  dominating  Ray- 
mond's existence,  instead  of  merely  vexing  it.  In  truth 
he  suffered,  but  he  was  juster  than  Estelle,  and,  looking 
back,  measured  his  liabilities  pretty  accurately.  He  had 
none  but  himself  to  thank  for  these  inconveniences,  and 

when  he  weighed  them  against  the  alternative  of  marriage 

363 


364  THE  SPINNERS 

with  Sabina,  he  counted  them  as  bearable.  Abel  tried  him 
sorely,  but  he  did  not  try  him  as  permanent  union  with 
Abel's  mother  must  have  tried  him.  Since  he  had  renewed 
speech  with  her,  his  conviction  was  increased  that  supreme 
disaster  must  have  followed  marriage.  Moreover,  there 
began  to  rise  a  first  glimmer  of  the  new  situation  already 
indicated.  It  had  grown  gradually  and  developed  more 
intensely  during  his  days  of  enforced  idleness  in  his  aunt's 
house.  From  that  time,  at  any  rate,  he  marked  the  change 
and  saw  his  old  regard  and  respect  for  Estelle  wakening 
into  something  greater.  Her  sympathy  quickened  the 
new  sentiments.  He  thought  she  was  saner  over  Abel  than 
anybody,  for  she  never  became  sentimental,  or  pretended 
that  nothing  had  happened  which  might  not  have  been 
predicted.  Her  support  was  both  human  and  practical. 
It  satisfied  him  and  showed  him  her  good  sense. 

Miss  Ironsyde  had  often  reminded  her  nephew  that  he 
was  the  last  of  his  line,  and  urged  him  to  take  a  wife  and 
found  a  family.  That  Raymond  should  marry  seemed 
desirable  to  her;  but  she  had  not  considered  Estelle  as  a 
wife  for  him.  Had  she  done  so,  Jenny  must  have  feared 
the  girl  too  young  and  too  doubtful  in  opinions  to  promise 
complete  success  and  safety  for  the  master  of  the  Mill. 
He  would  marry  a  mature  woman  and  a  steadfast  Chris- 
tian —  so  hoped  Miss  Ironsyde  then. 

There  came  a  day  when  Raymond  called  on  Mr.  Church- 
ouse.  Business  brought  him  and  first  he  discussed  the 
matter  of  an  advertisement. 

66  In  these  days,"  he  said,  "  the  competition  grows 
keener  than  ever.  And  I  rather  revel  in  it  —  as  I  do  in 
the  east  wind.  It's  not  pleasant  at  the  time,  but,  if  you're 
healthy,  it's  a  tonic." 

"  And  if  you're  not,  it  finds  the  weak  places,"  added  Mr. 
Churchouse.  "  No  man  over  sixty  has  much  good  to  say 
of  the  east  wind." 

|C  Well,  the  works  are  healthy  enough  and  competition  is 
merely  a  tonic  to  us.  We  hold  our  own  from  year  to  year, 


THE  ADVERTISEMENT  365 

and  I've  reached  a  conviction  that  my  policy  of  ruthlessly 
scrapping  machinery  the  moment  it's  even  on  the  down 
grade,  is  the  only  sound  principle  and  pays  in  the  long  run. 
And  now  I  want  something  new  in  the  advertisement  line 
—  something  not  mechanical  at  all,  but  human  and  inter- 
esting —  calculated  to  attract,  not  middlemen  and  retail- 
ers, but  the  person  who  buys  our  string  and  rope  to  use 
it.  In  fact  I  want  a  little  book  about  the  romance  of  spin- 
ning, so  that  people  may  look  at  a  ball  of  string,  or  shoe- 
thread,  or  fishing-line,  intelligently,  and  realise  about  one 
hundredth  part  of  all  that  goes  to  its  creation.  Now  you 
could  do  a  thing  like  that  to  perfection,  Uncle  Ernest,  be- 
cause you  know  the  business  inside  out." 

Mr.  Churchouse  was  much  pleased. 

"  An  excellent  idea  —  a  brilliant  idea,  Raymond !  We 
must  insist  on  the  romance  of  spinning  —  the  poetry." 

"  I  don't  want  it  to  be  too  flowery,  but  just  interesting 
and  direct.  A  glimpse  of  the  raw  material  growing,  then 
the  history  of  its  manufacture." 

Ernest's  eyes  sparkled. 

"  From  the  beginning  —  from  the  very  beginning,"  he 
said.  "  Pliny  tells  us  how  the  Romans  used  hemp  for  their 
sails  at  the  end  of  the  first  century.  Is  not  the  English 
word  *  canvas  '  only  '  cannabis  '  over  again?  Herodotus 
speaks  of  the  hempen  robes  of  the  Thracians  as  equal  to 
linen  in  fineness.  And  as  for  cordage,  the  ships  of  Syra- 
cuse in  200  B.  c. " 

He  was  interrupted. 

"  That's  all  right,  but  what  I  rather  fancy  is  the  de- 
velopment of  the  modern  industry  —  here  in  Dorset." 

"  Good  —  that  would  follow  with  all  manner  of  modern 
instances." 

Mr.  Churchouse  drew  a  book  from  one  of  his  shelves. 

"  In  Tudor  times  it  was  ordered  by  Act  of  Parliament 
that  ropes  should  be  twisted  and  made  nowhere  else  than 
here.  Leland,  that  industrious  chronicler,  came  to  grief 
in  this  matter,  for  he  calls  Bridport  '  a  fair,  larg  town,5 


366  THE  SPINNERS 

where  '  be  made  good  daggers.'  He  shows  the  danger  of 
taking  words  too  literally,  since  a  '  Bridport  dagger  '  is 
only  another  name  for  the  hangman's  rope." 

"  That's  the  sort  of  thing,"  said  Raymond.  "  An 
article  we  can  illustrate,  showing  the  hemp  and  flax  grow- 
ing in  Russia  and  Italy,  then  all  the  business  of  pulling, 
steeping  and  retting,  drying  and  scutching.  That  would 
be  one  chapter." 

"  It  shall  be  done.  I  see  it  —  I  see  the  whole  thing  — 
an  elegant  brochure  and  well  within  my  power.  I  am  fired 
with  the  thought.  There  is  only  one  objection,  however." 

"  None  in  the  world.  I  see  you  know  just  what  I'm 
after  —  a  little  pamphlet  well  illustrated." 

"  The  objection  is  that  Estelle  Waldron  would  do  it  a 
thousand  times  better  than  I  can.  She  has  a  more  modern 
outlook  and  a  more  modern  touch.  I  feel  confident  that 
with  me  to  supply  the  matter,  she  would  produce  a  much 
more  attractive  and  readable  work." 

Raymond  considered. 

"  I  suppose  she  would.     I  hadn't  thought  of  her." 

"  Believe  me,  she  would  succeed  to  admiration.  For 
your  sake  as  well  as  mine,  she  would  produce  a  little  mas- 
terpiece." 

"  She'd  do  anything  to  please  you,  we  all  know ;  but  I've 
no  right  to  bother  her  with  details  of  business.  Of  course, 
if  you  do  it,  it  is  a  commission  and  you  would  name  your 
honorarium,  Uncle  Ernest." 

The  old  man  laughed. 

"  We'll  see  —  we'll  see.  Perhaps  I  should  ask  too  high 
a  price.  But  Estelle  will  not  be  so  grasping.  And  as  to 
your  right  to  bother  her  with  the  details  of  business,  any- 
thing she  can  do  for  you  is  a  very  great  privilege  to 
her." 

"  I  believe  I  owe  her  more  than  a  man  can  ever  pay  a 
woman,  already." 

"  Most  men  are  insolvent  to  the  other  sex.  Woman's 
noble  tradition  is  to  give  more  than  she  gets,  and  let  us  off 


THE  ADVERTISEMENT  367 

the  reckoning,  quite  well  knowing  it  beyond  our  feeble 
powers  to  cry  quits  with  her." 

Raymond  was  moved  at  this  challenge,  for  in  the  light 
that  Estelle  threw  upon  them,  women  interested  him  more 
to-day  than  they  had  for  ten  years. 

"  One  takes  old  Arthur's  daughter  for  granted  rather 
too  much,"  he  said ;  "  we  always  take  good  women  for 
granted  too  much,  I  suppose.  It's  the  other  sort  who  look 
out  we  shan't  take  them  for  granted,  but  at  their  own 
valuation.  Estelle  —  she's  so  many-sided  —  difficult,  too, 
in  some  things." 

"  She  is,"  admitted  Ernest.  "  And  just  for  this  reason. 
She  always  argues  on  her  own  basis  of  perfect  ingenuous 
honesty.  She  assumes  certain  rational  foundations  for 
all  human  relations ;  and  if  such  bases  really  existed,  then 
it  would  be  the  best  possible  world,  no  doubt,  and  we  should 
all  do  to  our  neighbour  as  we  would  have  him  do  to  us. 
But  the  Golden  Rule  doesn't  actuate  the  bulk  of  mankind, 
unfortunately.  Men  and  women  are  not  as  good  as  Es- 
telle thinks  them." 

Raymond  agreed  eagerly. 

«  You've  hit  it,"  he  said.  "  It  is  just  that.  She's  right 
in  theory  every  time ;  and  if  people  were  all  as  straight  and 
altruistic  and  high-principled  as  she  is,  there'd  really  be  no 
more  bother  about  morals  in  the  world.  Native  good  sense 
would  decide.  Even  as  it  is,  the  native  good  sense  of  man- 
kind is  deciding  certain  questions  and  will  presently  push 
the  lawyers  into  codifying  their  mouldy  laws,  and  then  give 
reason  a  chance  to  cleanse  the  whole  archaic  lump  of  them ; 

but  as  it  is,  Estelle Take  Marriage,  for  example.  I 

agree  with  her  all  the  way  —  in  theory.  But  when  you 
come  to  view  the  situation  in  practice  —  you're  up  against 
things  as  they  are,  and  you  never  want  people  you  love  to 
be  martyrs,  however  noble  the  cause.  Estelle  says  the  law 
of  sex  relationships  is  barbaric,  and  that  marriage  is  being 
submitted  to  increasing  rational  criticism,  which  the  law 
and  the  Church  both  conspire  to  ignore.  She  thinks  that 


368  THE  SPINNERS 

these  barriers  to  progress  ought  to  be  swept  away,  because 
they  have  a  vicious  effect  on  the  institution  and  degrade 
men  and  women.  She's  always  got  her  eye  on  the  future, 
and  the  result  is  sometimes  that  she  doesn't  focus  the 
present  too  exactly.  It's  noble,  but  not  practical." 

"  The  institution  of  marriage  will  last  Estelle's  time,  I 
think,"  declared  Mr.  Churchouse. 

"  One  hopes  so  heartily  —  for  her  own  sake.  One  knows 
very  well  it's  an  obsolescent  sort  of  state,  and  can't  bear 
the  light  of  reason,  and  must  be  reformed,  so  that  intelli- 
gent people  can  enter  it  in  a  self-respecting  spirit ;  but  if 
there  is  one  institution  that  defies  the  pioneers,  it  is  mar- 
riage. The  law's  far  too  strong  for  us  there.  And  I 
don't  want  to  see  her  misunderstood." 

They  parted  soon  after  this  speech,  and  the  older  man, 
who  had  long  suspected  the  fact,  now  perceived  that  Ray- 
mond was  beginning  to  think  of  Estelle  in  new  terms  and 
elevating  her  to  another  place  in  his  thoughts. 

It  was  the  personal  standpoint  that  challenged  Iron- 
syde's  mind.  His  old  sentiments  and  opinions  respecting 
the  marriage  bond  took  a  very  different  colour  before  the 
vision  of  an  Estelle  united  to  himself.  Thus  circumstances 
alter  opinions,  and  the  theories  he  had  preached  to  Sabina 
went  down  the  wind  when  he  thought  of  Estelle.  The 
touchstone  of  love  vitiates  as  well  as  purifies  thinking. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    HEMP    BREAKER 

IRONSYDE  attached  increasing  importance  to  the  fullest 
possible  treatment  of  the  raw  material  before  actual  spin- 
ning, and  was  not  only  always  on  the  lookout  for  the  best 
hemps  and  flaxes  grown,  but  spared  no  pains  to  bring  them 
to  the  Card  and  Spread  Board  as  perfect  as  possible. 

To  this  end  he  established  a  Hemp  Break,  a  Hemp 
Breaker  and  a  Hemp  Softener.  The  first  was  a  wooden 
press  used  to  crush  the  stalks  of  retted  hemp  straw,  so 
that  the  harl  came  away  and  left  the  fibre  clean.  The 
second  shortened  long  hemp,  that  it  might  be  more  con- 
veniently hackled  and  drawn.  The  third  served  greatly  to 
improve  the  spinning  quality  of  soft  hemps  by  passing 
them  through  a  system  of  callender  rollers.  There  were 
no  hands  available  for  the  breakers  and  softeners,  so 
Raymond  increased  his  staff.  He  also  took  over  ten  acres 
of  the  North  Hill  House  estate,  ploughed  up  permanent 
grass,  cleaned  the  ground  with  a  root  crop,  and  then 
started  to  renew  the  vanishing  industry  of  flax  growing. 
He  visited  Belgium  for  the  purpose  of  mastering  the  mod- 
ern methods,  found  the  soil  of  North  Hill  well  suited  to  the 
crop,  and  was  soon  deeply  interested  in  the  enterprise.  He 
first  hoped  to  ret  his  flax  in  the  Bride  river,  as  he  had  seen 
it  retted  on  the  Lys,  but  was  dissuaded  from  making  this 
trial  and,  instead,  built  a  hot  water  rettery.  His  experi- 
ments did  not  go  unchallenged,  and  while  the  women  al- 
ways applauded  any  change  that  took  strain  off  their 
muscles  and  improved  the  possibility  of  rest,  the  men  were 
indifferent  to  this  advantage.  Mr.  Baggs  even  con- 
demned it. 

He  came  to  see  the  working  of  the  Hemp  Breaker,  and 

369 


370  THE  SPINNERS 

perceived  without  difficulty  that  its  operations  must  di- 
rectly tend  to  diminish  his  own  labour. 

"  You'll  pull  tons  less  of  solid  weight  in  a  day,  Levi," 
said  Best,  "  when  this  gets  going." 

"  And  why  should  I  be  asked  to  pull  tons  less  of  solid 
weight?  What's  the  matter  with  this?" 

He  thrust  out  his  right  arm  with  hypertrophied  muscles 
hard  as  steel. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  a  time's  coming  when  the  people 
won't  want  muscles  any  more,"  he  said.  "  Steam  has 
lowered  our  strength  standards  as  it  is,  and  presently 
labour  will  be  called  to  do  no  more  than  press  buttons  in 
the  midst  of  a  roaring  hell  of  machines.  The  people  won't 
want  no  more  strength  than  a  daddy-long-legs ;  they  that 
do  the  work  will  shrink  away  till  they're  gristle  and  bones, 
like  grasshoppers.  And  the  next  thing  will  be  that  they'll 
not  be  wanted  either,  but  all  will  be  done  by  just  a  handful 
of  skilled  creatures,  that  can  work  the  machines  from  their 
desks,  as  easy  as  the  organist  plays  the  organ  in  church. 
God  help  the  human  frame  then !  " 

"  We  shall  never  arrive  at  that,  be  sure,"  answered  Best ; 
"  for  that's  to  exalt  the  dumb  material  above  the  worker, 
and  if  things  were  reduced  to  such  a  pitch  of  perfection 
all  round,  there  would  be  no  need  of  large  populations. 
But  we're  told  to  increase  and  multiply  at  the  command 
of  God,  so  you  needn't  fear  machines  will  ever  lower  our 
power  to  do  so.  If  that  happened,  it  would  be  as  much  as 
to  say  God  allowed  us  to  produce  something  to  our  own 
undoing." 

"  He  allows  us  to  produce  a  fat  lot  of  things  to  our  own 
undoing,"  answered  the  hackler.  "  Ain't  Nature  under 
God's  direction?  " 

"  Without  doubt,  Levi." 

"  And  don't  Nature  tickle  us  to  our  own  undoing  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night?  Ain't  she  always  at  it  —  always 
tempting  us  to  go  too  far  along  the  road  of  our  particular 
weakness?  And  ain't  laziness  the  particular  weakness  of 


THE  HEMP  BREAKER  371 

all  women  and  most  men?  'Tis  pandering  to  laziness, 
these  machines,  and  for  my  part  I  wish  Ironsyde  would  get 
a  machine  to  hackle  once  and  for  all.  Then  I'd  leave  him 
and  go  where  they  still  put  muscles  above  machinery." 

"Funny  you  should  say  that,"  answered  the  foreman. 
"  He's  had  the  thought  of  your  retirement  in  his  mind  for 
a  good  bit  now.  Only  consideration  for  your  feelings  has 
prevented  him  dropping  a  hint.  He  always  likes  it  to 
come  from  us,  rather  than  him,  when  anybody  falls  out." 

Mr.  Baggs  took  this  with  tolerable  calm. 

"  I'll  think  of  it  next  year,"  he  said.  "  If  I  could  get 
at  him  by  a  side  wind  as  to  the  size  of  the  pension " 

"  That's  hid  with  him.  He'll  follow  his  father's  rule, 
you  may  be  sure,  and  reward  you  according  to  your 
deserts." 

"  I  don't  expect  that,"  said  Mr.  Baggs.  "  He  don't 
know  my  deserts." 

"  Well,  I  shouldn't  be  in  any  great  hurry  for  your  own 
sake,"  advised  Best.  "  You're  well  and  hard,  and  can  do 
your  work  as  it  should  be  done;  but  you  must  remember 
you've  got  no  resources  outside  your  hackling  shop.  Take 
you  away  from  it  and  you're  a  blank.  You  never  read  a 
book,  or  go  out  for  a  walk,  or  even  till  your  allotment 
ground.  All  you  do  is  to  sit  at  home  and  criticise  other 
people.  In  fact,  you're  a  very  ignorant  old  man,  Baggs, 
and  if  you  retired,  you'd  find  life  hang  that  heavy  on  your 
hands  you'd  hardly  know  how  to  kill  time  between  meals. 
Then  you'd  get  fat  and  eat  too  much  and  shorten  your 
days.  I've  known  it  to  happen,  where  a  man  who  uses  his 
muscles  gives  up  work  before  his  flesh  fails  him." 

Raymond  Ironsyde  joined  them  at  this  juncture  and 
presently,  when  Levi  went  back  to  his  shop  and  the  Hemp 
Breaker  had  been  duly  applauded,  the  master  took  John 
Best  aside  and  discussed  a  private  matter. 

"  The  boy  has  come  back  for  his  holidays,"  he  said ;  and 
Best,  who  knew  that  when  Raymond  spoke  of  '  the  boy  '  he 
meant  Sabina's  son,  nodded. 


872  THE  SPINNERS 

"  I  hope  all  goes  well  with  him  and  that  you  hear  good 
accounts,"  he  answered. 

"  The  reports  are  all  much  the  same,  term  after  term. 
He's  said  to  have  plenty  of  ability,  but  no  perseverance." 

"  Think  nothing  of  that,"  advised  the  foreman. 
"  Schoolmasters  expect  boys  to  persevere  all  round,  which 
is  more  than  you  can  ask  of  human  nature.  The  thing  is 
to  find  out  what  gets  hold  of  a  boy  and  what  he  does  per- 
severe at  —  then  a  sensible  schoolmaster  wouldn't  make  him 
waste  half  his  working  hours  at  other  things,  for  which  the 
boy's  mind  has  got  no  place.  Mechanics  will  be  that  boy's 
strong  point,  if  I  know  anything  about  boys.  And  I  be- 
lieve all  the  fearful  wickedness  that  prompted  him  to  burn 
the  place  down  is  pretty  well  gone  out  of  him  by  now." 

"  I've  left  him  everely  alone,"  said  Raymond.  "  I've 
said  to  myself  that  not  for  three  whole  years  will  I  ap- 
proach him  again.  Meantime  I  don't  feel  any  too  satisfied 
with  the  school.  I  fancy  they  are  a  bit  soft  there. 
Private  schools  are  like  that.  They  daren't  be  too  strict 
for  fear  the  children  will  complain  and  be  taken  away. 
But  there  are  others.  I  can  move  him  if  need  be.  And 
I'll  ask  you,  Best,  to  keep  your  eye  on  him  these  holidays, 
as  far  as  you  reasonably  can,  when  he  comes  here.  It  is 
understood  he  may.  Try  and  get  him  to  talk  and  see  if 
he's  got  any  ideas." 

"  He  puts  me  a  good  bit  in  mind  of  what  poor  Mister 
Daniel  was  at  that  age.  He's  keen  about  spinning,  and  if 
I  was  to  let  him  mind  a  can  now  and  again  he'd  be  very 
proud  of  himself." 

"  Rum  that  he  should  like  the  works  and  hate  me.  Yes, 
he  hates  me  all  right  still,  for  Mister  Churchouse  has 
sounded  him  and  finds  that  it  is  so.  It's  in  the  young 
beggar's  blood  and  there  seems  to  be  no  operation  that  will 
get  it  out." 

Best  considered. 

"  He'll  come  round.     No  doubt  his  schooling  is  making 


THE  HEMP  BREAKER  373 

i 

his  mind  larger,  and,  presently,  he'll  feel  the  force  of 
Christianity  also ;  and  that  should  conquer  the  old  Adam 
in  him.  By  the  same  token  the  less  he  sees  of  Levi,  the 
better.  Baggs  is  no  teacher  for  youth,  but  puts  his  own 
wrong  and  rebellious  ideas  into  their  heads,  and  they  think 
it's  fine  to  be  up  against  law  and  order.  I'll  always  say 
'twas  half  the  fault  of  Baggs  the  boy  thought  to  burn  us 
down ;  yet,  of  course,  nobody  was  more  shocked  and  scan- 
dalised than  Levi  when  he  heard  about  it.  And  until  the 
boy's  come  over  to  your  side,  he'll  do  well  not  to  listen  to 
the  seditious  old  dog." 

"  Keep  him  out  of  the  hackling  shop,  then.  Tell  him 
he's  not  to  go  there." 

Best  shook  his  head. 

"  The  very  thing  to  send  him.  He's  like  that.  He'd 
smell  a  rat  very  quick  if  he  was  ordered  not  to  see  Baggs. 
And  then  he'd  haunt  Baggs.  I  shan't  trust  the  boy  a 
yard,  you  understand.  You  mustn't  ask  me  to  do  that 
after  the  past.  But  I'm  hopeful  that  his  feeling  for  the 
craft  will  lift  him  up  and  make  him  straight.  To  a  crafts- 
man, his  work  is  often  more  powerful  for  salvation  than  his 
faith.  In  fact,  his  work  is  his  faith;  and  from  the  way 
things  run  in  the  blood,  I  reckon  that  Sabina's  son  might 
rise  into  a  spinner." 

"  I  don't  want  anything  of  that  sort  to  happen,  and 
Pm  sure  she  doesn't." 

"  There's  a  hang-dog  look  in  his  eyes  I'd  like  to  see 
away,"  confessed  John.  "  He's  been  mismanaged,  I 
reckon,  and  hasn't  any  sense  of  righteousness  yet.  All  for 
justice  he  is,  so  I  hear  he  tells  Mister  Churchouse.  Many 
are  who  don't  know  the  meaning  of  the  word.  I'll  do  what 
I  can  when  he  comes  here." 

"  He's  old  for  his  age  in  some  ways  and  young  in 
others,"  explained  Raymond.  "  I  feel  nothing  much  can 
be  done  till  he  gets  friendly  with  me." 

"  You're  doing  all  any  man  could  do." 


374  THE  SPINNERS 

"  At  some  cost  too,  John.  You,  at  any  rate,  can  under- 
stand what  a  ghastly  situation  this  is.  There  seems  no 
end  to  it." 

"  Consequences  often  bulk  much  bigger  than  causes," 
said  Best.  "  In  fact,  to  our  eyes,  consequences  do  gen- 
erally look  a  most  unfair  result  of  causes ;  as  a  very  small 
seed  will  often  grow  up  into  a  very  big  tree.  You'll  never 
find  any  man,  or  woman,  satisfied  with  the  price  they're 
called  to  pay  for  the  privilege  of  being  alive.  And  in  this 
lad's  case,  him  being  built  contrary  and  not  turned  true  — 
warped  no  doubt  by  the  accident  of  his  career  —  you've 
got  to  pay  a  far  heavier  price  than  you  would  have  been 
called  to  pay  if  you'd  been  his  lawful  begetter.  But  seeing 
the  difficulty  lies  in  the  boy's  nature  alone,  we'll  hope  that 
time  will  cure  it,  when  he's  old  enough  to  look  ahead  and 
see  which  side  his  bread's  buttered,  if  for  no  higher  rea- 
son." 

Ironsyde  left  the  Mill  depressed;  indeed,  Abel's  recur- 
ring holidays  always  did  depress  him.  As  yet  no  hoped- 
for  sign  of  reconciliation  could  be  chronicled. 

To-day,  however,  a  gleam  appeared  to  dawn,  for  on 
calling  at  '  The  Magnolias  '  to  see  Ernest  Churchouse, 
Raymond  was  cheered  by  a  promised  event  which  might 
contain  possibilities.  Estelle  had  scored  a  point  and  got 
Abel  to  promise  to  come  for  a  picnic. 

"  He  made  a  hard  bargain  though,"  she  said.  "  He's  to 
light  a  fire  and  boil  the  kettle.  And  we  are  to  stop  at  the 
old  store  in  West  Haven  for  one  good  hour  on  the  road 
home.  I've  agreed  to  the  terms  and  shall  give  him  the 
happiest  time  I  know  how." 

"  Is  his  mother  going?  " 

"  Yes  —  he  insists  on  that.     And  Sabina  will  come." 

"  But  don't  hope  too  much  of  it,"  said  Ernest.  "  I  re- 
gard this  as  the  thin  end  of  the  wedge  —  no  more  than 
that.  If  Estelle  can  win  his  confidence,  then  she  may  do 
great  things ;  but  she  won't  win  it  at  one  picnic.  I  know 
him  too  well.  He's  a  mass  of  contradictions.  Some  days 


THE  HEMP  BREAKER  375 

most  communicative,  other  days  not  a  syllable.  Some 
days  he  seems  to  trust  you  with  his  secrets,  other  days  he 
is  suspicious  if  you  ask  him  the  simplest  question.  He's 
still  a  wild  animal,  who  occasionally,  for  his  own  con- 
venience, pretends  to  be  tame." 

"  I  shan't  try  to  tame  him,"  said  Estelle.  "  I  respect 
wild  things  a  great  deal  too  much  to  show  them  the  charms 
of  being  tame.  But  it's  something  that  he's  coming,  and 
if  once  he  will  let  me  be  his  chum  in  holidays,  I  might  bring 
him  round  to  Ray." 

She  planned  the  details  of  the  picnic  and  invited  Ray- 
mond to  imagine  himself  a  boy  again.  This  he  did  and 
suggested  various  additions  to  the  entertainment. 

"  Did  Sabina  agree  easily?  "  he  asked,  still  returning  to 
the  event  as  something  very  great  and  gratifying. 

"  Not  willingly,  but  gradually  and  cautiously." 

"  She's  softer  and  gentler  than  she  was,  however.  I 
can  assure  you  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Churchouse. 

"  She  thought  it  might  be  a  trap  at  first,"  confessed 
Estelle. 

"  A  trap,  Chicky !     You  to  set  a  trap?  " 

"  No,  you,  Ray.  She  fancied  you  might  mean  to  sur- 
prise the  boy  and  bully  him." 

"  How  could  she  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  assured  her  that  you'd  never  dream  of  any  such 
thing.  Of  course  I  promised,  as  she  wished  me  to  do  so, 
that  you  wouldn't  turn  up  at  the  picnic.  I  reminded  her 
how  very  particular  you  were,  and  how  entirely  you  leave 
it  to  Abel  to  come  round  and  take  the  first  step." 

"  Be  jolly  careful  what  you  say  to  him.  He's  a  mass 
of  prejudice,  where  I'm  concerned,  and  doesn't  even  know 
I'm  educating  him." 

"  I'll  keep  off  you,"  she  promised.  "  In  fact,  I  only 
intend  to  give  him  as  good  a  day  as  I  can.  I'm  not  going 
to  bother  about  you,  Ray;  I'm  going  to  think  of  myself 
and  do  everything  I  can  to  get  his  friendship  on  my  own 
account.  If  I  can  do  that  for  a  start,  I  shall  be  satisfied." 


376  THE  SPINNERS 

"  And  so  shall  I,"  declared  Ernest.  "  Because  it 
wouldn't  stop  at  that.  If  you  succeed,  then  much  may 
come  of  it.  In  my  case,  I  can't  lift  his  guarded  friendship 
for  me  into  enthusiasm.  He  associates  me  with  learning 
to  read  and  other  painful  preliminaries  to  life.  Moreover, 
I  have  tried  to  awaken  his  moral  qualities  and  am  regarded 
with  the  gravest  suspicion  in  consequence.  But  you  come 
to  him  freshly  and  won't  try  to  teach  him  anything.  Join 
him  in  his  pleasure  and  add  to  it  all  you  can.  There  is 
nothing  that  wins  young  creatures  quicker  than  sharing 
their  pleasures,  if  you  can  do  so  reasonably  and  are  not 
removed  so  far  from  them  by  age  that  any  attempt  would 
be  ridiculous.  Fifteen  and  twenty-seven  may  quite  well 
have  a  good  deal  in  common  still,  if  twenty-seven  is  not  too 
proud  to  confess  it." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    PICNIC 

FOR  a  long  day  Estelle  devoted  herself  whole-heartedly  to 
winning  the  friendship  of  Abel  Dinnett.  Her  chances  of 
success  were  increased  by  an  accident,  though  it  appeared 
at  first  that  the  misadventure  would  ruin  all.  For  when 
Estelle  arrived  at  '  The  Magnolias  '  in  her  pony  carriage, 
Sabina  proved  to  be  sick  and  quite  unequal  to  the  proposed 
day  in  the  air. 

Abel  declined  to  go  without  his  mother,  but,  after  con- 
siderable persuasion,  allowed  the  prospect  of  pleasure  to 
outweigh  his  distrust. 

Estelle  promised  to  let  him  drive,  and  that  privilege  in 
itself  proved  a  temptation  too  great  to  resist.  His 
mother's  word  finally  convinced  him,  and  he  drove  an 
elderly  pony  so  considerately  that  his  hostess  praised  him. 

"  I  see  you  are  kind  to  dumb  things,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
glad  of  that,  for  they  are  very  understanding  and  soon 
know  who  are  their  friends  and  who  are  not." 

"  If  beasts  treat  me  well,"  he  answered,  "  then  I  treat 
them  well.  And  if  they  treated  me  badly,  then  I'd  treat 
them  badly." 

She  did  not  argue  about  this ;  indeed,  all  that  day  her 
care  was  to  amuse  him  and  hear  his  opinions  without 
boring  him  if  she  could  avoid  doing  so. 

He  remained  shy  at  first  and  quiet.  From  time  to  time 
she  was  in  a  fair  way  to  break  down  his  reserve;  but  he 
seemed  to  catch  himself  becoming  more  friendly  and,  once 
or  twice,  after  laughing  at  something,  he  relapsed  into 
long  silence  and  looked  at  her  from  under  his  eyelids  sus- 
piciously when  he  thought  she  was  not  looking  at  him. 

377 


378  THE  SPINNERS 

Thus  she  won,  only  to  lose  what  she  had  won,  and  when 
they  reached  the  breezy  cliffs  of  Eype,  Estelle  reckoned 
that  she  stood  towards  him  pretty  much  as  she  stood  at 
starting.  But  slowly,  surely,  inevitably,  before  such  good 
temper  and  tact  he  thawed  a  little.  They  tethered  the 
pony,  gave  it  a  nosebag  and  then  spread  their  meal.  Abel 
was  quick  and  neat.  She  noticed  that  his  hands  were  like 
his  mother's  —  finely  tapered,  suggestive  of  art.  But  on 
that  subject  he  seemed  to  have  no  ideas,  and  she  found, 
after  trying  various  themes,  that  he  cared  not  in  the  least 
for  music,  or  pictures,  but  certainly  shared  his  father's 
interest  in  mechanics. 

Abel  talked  of  the  Mill  —  self-consciously  at  first ;  yet 
when  he  found  that  Estelle  ignored  the  past,  and  under- 
stood spinning,  he  forgot  himself  entirely  for  a  time  under 
the  spell  of  the  subject. 

They  compared  notes,  and  she  saw  he  was  more  familiar 
than  she  with  detail.  Then,  while  still  forgetting  his 
listener,  Abel  remembered  himself  and  his  talk  of  the  Mill 
turned  into  a  personal  channel.  There  is  no  more  confi- 
dential thing,  by  fits  and  starts,  than  a  shy  child;  and  just 
as  Estelle  felt  the  boy  would  never  come  any  closer,  or  give 
her  a  chance  to  help  him,  suddenly  he  startled  her  with  the 
most  unexpected  utterance. 

"  You  mightn't  know  it,"  he  said,  "  but  by  justice  and 
right  I  should  have  the  whole  works  for  my  very  own  when 
Mister  Ironsyde  died.  Because  he's  my  father,  though  I 
daresay  he  pretends  to  everybody  he  isn't." 

"  I'm  very  sure  Mister  Ironsyde  doesn't  feel  anything 
but  jolly  kind  and  friendly  to  you,  Abel.  He  doesn't  pre- 
tend he  isn't  your  father.  Why  should  he?  You  know 
he's  often  offered  to  be  friends,  and  he  even  forgave  you 
for  trying  to  burn  down  the  Mill.  Surely  that  was  a 
pretty  good  sign  he  means  to  be  friendly?  " 

"  I  don't  want  his  friendship,  because  he's  not  good  to 
mother.  He  served  her  very  badly.  I  understand  things 
a  lot  better  than  you  might  think." 


THE  PICNIC  379 

"  Well,  don't  spoil  your  lunch,"  she  said.  "  We'll  talk 
afterwards.  Are  you  ready  for  another  bottle  of  ginger- 
beer?  I  don't  like  this  gingerbeer  out  of  glass  bottles.  I 
like  it  out  of  stone  bottles." 

"  So  do  I,"  he  answered,  instantly  dropping  his  own 
wrongs.  "  But  the  glass  bottles  have  glass  marbles  in 
them,  which  you  can  use ;  and  so  it's  better  to  have  them, 
because  it  doesn't  matter  so  much  about  the  taste  after 
it's  drunk." 

She  asked  him  concerning  his  work  and  he  told  her  that 
he  best  liked  history.  She  asked  why,  and  he  gave  a 
curious  reason. 

"  Because  it  tells  you  the  truth,  and  you  don't  find  good 
men  always  scoring  and  bad  men  always  coming  to  grief. 
In  history,  good  men  come  to  grief  sometimes  and  bad 
men  score." 

"  But  you  can't  always  be  sure  what  is  good  and  what 
is  bad,"  she  argued. 

"  The  people  who  write  the  histories  don't  worry  you 
about  that,"  he  answered,  "  but  just  tell  you  what  hap- 
pened. And  sometimes  you  are  jolly  glad  when  a  beast 
gets  murdered,  or  his  throne  is  taken  away  from  him ;  and 
sometimes  you  are  sorry  when  a  brave  chap  comes  to 
grief,  even  though  he  may  be  bad." 

"  Some  historians  are  not  fair,  though,"  she  said. 
"  Some  happen  to  feel  like  you.  They  hate  some  people 
and  some  ideas,  and  always  show  them  in  an  unfriendly 
light.  If  you  write  history,  you  must  be  tremendously 
fair  and  keep  your  own  little  whims  out  of  it." 

After  their  meal  Estelle  smoked  a  cigarette,  much  to 
Abel's  interest. 

"  I  never  knew  a  girl  could  smoke,"  he  said. 

"Why  not?  Would  you  like  one?  I  don't  suppose  a 
cigarette  once  in  a  way  can  hurt  you." 

"  I've  smoked  thousands,"  he  told  her.  "  And  a  pipe, 
too,  for  that  matter.  I  smoked  a  cigar  once.  I  found  it 
and  smoked  it  right  through." 


380  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Didn't  it  make  you  ill?  " 

"  Yes  —  fearfully ;  but  I  hid  till  I  was  all  right  again." 

He  smoked  a  cigarette,  and  Estelle  told  him  that  his 
father  was  a  great  smoker  and  very  fond  of  a  pipe. 

"  But  he  wouldn't  let  you  smoke,  except  now  and  again 
in  holiday  times  —  not  yet.  Nobody  ought  to  smoke  till 
he's  done  growing." 

"  What  about  you,  then?  "  asked  Abel. 

"  I've  done  growing  ages  ago.  I'm  nearly  twenty- 
eight." 

He  looked  at  her  and  his  eyes  clouded.  He  entered  a 
phase  of  reserve.  Then  she,  guessing  how  to  enchant  him, 
suggested  the  next  step. 

"  If  you  help  me  pack  up  now,  we'll  harness  the  pony 
and  go  down  to  West  Haven  for  a  bit.  I  want  to  see  the 
old  stores  I've  heard  such  a  lot  about.  You  must  show 
them  to  me." 

"  Yes  —  part.  I  know  every  inch  of  them,  but  I  can't 
show  you  my  own  secret  den,  though." 

"  Do.     I  should  love  to  see  it." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  No  good  asking,"  he  said.  "  That's  my  greatest 
secret.  You  can't  expect  me  to  tell  you.  Even  mother 
doesn't  know." 

"  I  won't  ask,  then.  I've  got  a  den,  too,  for  that  mat- 
ter —  in  fact,  two.  One  on  North  Hill  and  one  in  our 
garden." 

"  D'you  know  the  lime-kiln  on  North  Hill?  " 

"  Rather.     The  bee  orchis  grows  thereabout." 

He  thought  for  a  moment.  "  If  I  showed  you  my  den 
in  the  store,  would  you  swear  to  God  never  to  tell?  " 

"  Yes,  I'd  swear  faithfully  not  to." 

"  Perhaps  I  will,  then." 

But  when  presently  they  reached  his  haunt,  he  had 
changed  his  mood.  She  did  not  remind  him,  left  him  to 
his  devices  and  sat  patiently  outside  while  he  was  hidden 


THE  PICNIC  881 

within.  Occasionally  his  head  popped  out  of  unexpected 
places  aloft,  then  disappeared  again.  Once  she  heard  a 
great  noise,  followed  by  silence.  She  called  to  him  and, 
after  a  pause,  he  shouted  down  that  he  was  all  right. 

When  an  hour  had  passed  she  called  out  again  to  tell 
him  to  come  back  to  her. 

"  We're  going  to  Bridport  to  tea,"  she  said. 

He  came  immediately  and  revealed  a  badly  torn  trouser 
leg. 

"  I  fell,"  he  explained.  "  I  fell  through  a  rotten  ceil- 
ing, and  I've  cut  my  leg.  When  I  was  young  the  sight  of 
blood  made  me  go  fainty,  but  I  laugh  at  it  now." 

He  pulled  up  his  trousers  and  showed  a  badly  barked 
shin. 

"  We'll  go  to  a  chemist  and  get  him  to  wash  it,  and  I'll 
get  a  needle  and  thread  and  sew  it  up,"  said  Estelle. 

She  condoled  with  him  as  they  drove  to  Bridport,  but 
he  was  impatient  of  sympathy. 

"  I  don't  mind  pain,"  he  said.  "  I've  tried  the  Red 
Indian  tests  on  myself  before  to-day.  Once  I  had  to  see  a 
doctor  after;  but  I  didn't  flinch  when  I  was  doing  it." 

A  chemist  dressed  the  wounded  leg  and  presently  they 
arrived  at  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  where  the  pony  was  stabled 
and  tea  taken  in  the  garden.  Mrs.  Legg  provided  a  needle 
and  thread  and  produced  a  very  excellent  tea. 

Abel  enjoyed  the  swing  for  some  time,  but  would  not  let 
Estelle  help  him. 

"  I  can  swing  myself,"  he  said,  "  but  I'll  swing  you  aft- 
erwards." 

He  did  so  until  they  were  tired.  Then  he  walked  round 
the  flower  borders  and  presently  picked  Estelle  a  rose. 

She  thanked  him  very  heartily  and  told  him  the  names 
of  the  blossoms  which  he  did  not  know. 

Job  came  and  talked  to  them  for  a  time,  and  Estelle 
praised  the  garden,  while  Abel  listened.  Then  Mr.  Legg 
turned  to  the  boy. 


382  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Holidays  round  again,  young  man?  I  dare  say  we 
shall  see  you  sometimes,  and,  if  you  like  flowers,  you  can 
always  come  in  and  have  a  look." 

"  I  don't  like  flowers,"  said  the  boy.     "  I  like  fruit." 

He  went  back  to  the  swing  and  Job  asked  after  Mr. 
Waldron. 

Estelle  reminded  him  that  he  had  promised  to  come  and 
see  her  garden  some  day. 

"  Be  sure  I  shall,  miss,"  he  answered,  "  but,  for  the 
minute,  work  fastens  on  me  from  my  rising  up  to  my  going 
down." 

"  However  do  you  get  through  it  all?  " 

"  Thanks  to  method.  It's  summed  up  in  that.  With- 
out method,  I  should  be  a  lost  man." 

"  You  ought  to  slack  off,"  she  said.  "  I'm  sure  that 
Nelly  doesn't  like  to  see  you  work  so  hard." 

"  She'd  work  hard  too,  but  Nature  and  not  her  will 
shortens  her  great  powers.  She  grows  into  a  mountain 
of  flesh  and  her  substance  prevents  activity ;  but  the  mind 
is  there  unclouded.  In  my  case  the  flesh  doesn't  gain  on 
me  and  work  agrees  with  my  system." 

"  You're  a  very  wonderful  man,"  declared  Estelle ;  "  but 
no  doubt  plenty  of  people  tell  you  that." 

"  Only  by  comparison,"  he  explained.  "  The  wonder 
is  all  summed  up  in  the  one  word  *  method,'  coupled  with  a 
good  digestion  and  no  strong  drink.  I'd  like  to  talk  more 
on  the  subject,  but  I  must  be  going." 

"  And  tell  them  to  put  in  the  pony.  We  must  be  going, 
too." 

On  the  way  home  Estelle  tried  to  interest  Abel  in  sport. 
She  had  been  very  careful  all  day  to  keep  Raymond  off 
her  lips,  but  now  intentionally  she  spoke  of  him.  It  was 
done  with  care  and  she  only  named  him  casually  in  the 
course  of  general  remarks.  Thus  she  hoped  that,  in  time, 
he  would  allow  her  to  mention  his  father  without  oppo- 
sition. 


THE  PICNIC  383 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  play  some  games  with  your  old 
friends  at  Bridetown  these  holidays,"  she  said. 

"  I  haven't  any  old  friends  there.  I  don't  want  friends. 
I  never  made  that  fire  you  promised." 

"  You  shall  make  it  next  time  we  come  out ;  and  every- 
body wants  friends.  You  can't  get  on  without  friends. 
And  the  good  of  games  is  that  you  make  friends.  I'm  very 
keen  on  golf  now,  though  I  never  thought  I  should  like 
sport.  Did  you  play  any  cricket  at  school?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  care  about  it." 

"  How  did  you  play?  You  ought  to  be  rather  a  dab 
at  it." 

"  I  played  very  well  and  was  in  the  second  eleven.  But 
I  don't  care  about  it.  It's  all  right  at  school,  but  there 
are  better  things  to  do  in  the  holidays." 

"  If  you're  a  good  cricketer,  you  might  get  some 
matches.  Your  father  is  a  very  good  cricketer,  and  would 
have  played  for  the  county  if  he'd  been  able  to  practise 
enough.  And  Mister  Roberts  at  the  mill  is  a  splendid 
player." 

His  nervous  face  twitched  and  his  instant  passion  ran 
into  his  whip  hand.  He  gave  the  astonished  pony  a  lash 
and  made  it  start  across  the  road,  so  that  Estelle  was 
nearly  thrown  from  her  seat. 

"  Don't !     Don't !  "  she  said.     "  What's  the  matter?  " 

But  she  knew. 

He  showed  his  teeth. 

"  I  won't  hear  his  name  —  I  won't  hear  it.  I  hate  him, 
I  hate  him.  Take  the  reins  —  I'll  walk.  You've  spoilt 
everything  now.  I  always  wish  he  was  dead  when  I  hear 
his  name,  and  I  wish  he  was  dead  this  minute." 

"  My  dear  Abel,  I'm  sorry.  I  didn't  think  you  felt  so 
bad  as  that  about  him.  He  doesn't  feel  at  all  like  that 
about  you." 

"  I  hate  him,  I  tell  you,  and  I'm  not  the  only  one  that 
hates  him.  And  I  don't  care  what  he  feels  about  me. 


384  THE  SPINNERS 

He's  my  greatest  enemy  on  earth,  and  people  who  under- 
stand have  told  me  so,  and  I  won't  be  beholden  to  him  for 
anything  —  and  —  and  you  can  stick  up  for  him  till 
you're  black  in  the  face  for  all  I  care.  I  know  he's  bad 
and  I'll  be  his  enemy  always." 

"  You're  a  little  fool,"  she  said  calmly.  "  Let  me  drive 
and  you  can  listen  to  me  now.  If  you  listen  to  stupid, 
wicked  people  talking  of  your  father,  then  listen  to  me 
for  a  change.  You  don't  know  anything  whatever  about 
him,  because  you  won't  give  him  a  chance  to  talk  to  you 
himself.  If  you  once  let  him,  you'd  very  soon  stop  all 
this  nonsense." 

"You're  bluffing,"  he  said.  "You  think  you'll  get 
round  me  like  that,  but  you  won't.  You're  only  a  girl. 
You  don't  know  anything.  It's  men  tell  me  about  my 
father.  You  think  he's  good,  because  you  love  him;  but 
he's  bad,  really  —  as  bad  as  hell  —  as  bad  as  hell." 

"  What's  he  done  then?  I'm  not  bluffing,  Abel. 
There's  nothing  to  bluff  about.  What's  your  father  done 
to  you?  You  must  have  some  reason  for  hating  him?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

"  It's  because  the  Mill  ought  to  be  mine  when  he  dies  — 
there !  " 

She  did  not  answer  immediately.  She  had  often 
thought  the  same  thing.  Instinct  told  her  that  frankness 
must  be  the  only  course.  Through  frankness  he  might 
still  be  won. 

He  did  not  speak  again  after  his  last  assertion,  and 
presently  she  answered  in  a  manner  to  surprise  him. 
Directness  was  natural  to  Estelle  and  both  her  father  and 
her  friend,  Mr.  Churchouse,  had  fostered  it.  People  either 
deprecated  or  admired  this  quality  of  her  talk,  for  direct- 
ness of  speech  is  so  rare  that  it  never  fails  to  appear 
surprising. 

:  I  think  you're  right  there,  Abel.     Perhaps  the  Mill 


.. 


THE  PICNIC  385 

ought  to  be  yours  some  day.  Perhaps  it  will  be.  The 
things  that  ought  to  happen  really  do  sometimes." 

Then  he  surprised  her  in  his  turn. 

"  I  wouldn't  take  the  Mill  —  not  now.  I'll  never  take 
anything  from  him.  It's  too  late  now." 

She  realised  the  futility  of  argument. 

"  You're  tired,"  she  said,  "  and  so  am  I.  We'll  talk 
about  important  things  again  some  day.  Only  don't  — 
don't  imagine  people  aren't  your  friends.  If  you'd  only 
think,  you'd  see  how  jolly  kind  people  have  been  to  you 
over  and  over  again.  Didn't  you  ever  wonder  how  you 
got  off  so  well  after  trying  to  burn  down  the  works  ?  You 
must  have.  Anyway,  it  showed  you'd  got  plenty  of  good 
friends,  surely?" 

"  It  didn't  matter  to  me.  I'd  have  gone  to  prison.  I 
don't  care  what  they  do  to  me.  They  can't  make  me  feel 
different." 

"  Well,  leave  it.  We've  had  a  good  day  and  you  needn't 
quarrel  with  me,  at  any  rate." 

"  I  don't  know  that.     You're  his  friend." 

"  You  surely  don't  want  to  quarrel  with  all  his  friends 
as  well  as  him?  We  are  going  to  be  friends,  anyway,  and 
have  some  more  good  times  together.  I  like  you." 

"  I  thought  I  liked  you,"  he  said,  "  but  you  called  me  a 
little  fool." 

"  That's  nothing.  You  were  a  little  fool  just  now. 
We're  all  fools  sometimes.  I've  been  a  fool  to-day,  my- 
self. You're  a  little  fool  to  hate  anybody.  What  good 
does  it  do  you  to  hate?  " 

"  It  does  do  me  good ;  and  if  I  didn't  hate  him,  I  should 
hate  myself,"  the  boy  declared. 

"  Well,  it's  better  to  hate  yourself  than  somebody  else. 
It's  a  good  sign  I  should  think  if  we  hate  ourselves.  We 
ought  to  hate  ourselves  more  than  we  do,  because  we  know 
better  than  anybody  else  how  hateful  we  can  be.  Instead 
of  that,  we  waste  tons  of  energy  hating  other  people,  and 


386  THE  SPINNERS 

think  there's  nobody  so  fine  and  nice  and  interesting  as  we 
are  ourselves." 

"  Mister  Churchouse  says  the  less  we  think  about  our- 
selves the  better.  But  you've  got  to  if  you've  been  ill- 
used." 

In,  the  dusk  twinkled  out  a  glow-worm  beside  the  hedge, 
and  they  stopped  while  Abel  picked  it  up.  Gradually  he 
grew  calmer,  and  when  they  parted  he  thanked  her  for  her 
goodness  to  him. 

"  It's  been  a  proper  day,  all  but  the  end,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  will  like  you  and  be  your  friend.  But  I  won't  like  my 
father  and  be  his  friend,  because  he's  bad  and  served 
mother  and  me  badly.  You  may  think  I  don't  understand 
such  things,  but  I  do.  And  I  never  will  be  beholden  to  him 
as  long  as  I  live  —  never." 

He  left  her  at  the  outer  gate  of  his  home  and  she  drove 
on  and  considered  him  rather  hopelessly.  He  had  some 
feeling  for  beauty  on  which  she  had  trusted  to  work,  but 
it  was  slight.  He  was  vain,  very  sensitive,  and  disposed  to 
be  malignant.  As  yet  reason  had  not  come  to  his  rescue 
and  his  emotions,  ill-directed,  ran  awry.  He  was  evi- 
dently unaware  that  his  father  had  so  far  saved  the  situa- 
tion for  him.  What  would  he  do  when  he  knew  it? 

Estelle  felt  the  picnic  not  altogether  a  failure,  yet  saw 
little  signs  of  a  situation  more  hopeful  at  present. 

"  I  can  win  him,"  she  decided ;  "  but  it  looks  as  though 
his  father  never  would." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    RUNAWAY 

ESTELLE  was  as  good  as  her  word  and  devoted  not  a  few 
of  his  holidays  to  the  pleasure  of  Sabina's  son.  Uncon- 
sciously she  hastened  the  progress  of  other  matters,  for 
her  resolute  attempt  to  win  Abel,  at  any  cost  of  patience 
and  trouble,  brought  her  still  deeper  into  the  hidden  life 
and  ambitions  of  the  boy's  father. 

She  was  frank  with  Raymond,  and  when  Abel  had  gone 
back  to  school  and  made  no  sign,  Estelle  related  her  ex- 
periences. 

"  He's  sworn  eternal  friendship  with  me,"  she  said,  "  but 
it's  not  a  friendship  that  extends  to  you,  or  anybody  else. 
He's  very  narrow.  He  concentrates  in  a  terrifying  way 
and  wants  everything.  He  told  me  that  he  hated  me  to 
have  any  other  friends  but  him.  It  took  him  a  long  time 
to  decide  about  me ;  but  now  he  has  decided.  He  extracts 
terrific  oaths  of  secrecy  and  then  imparts  his  secrets. 
Before  giving  the  oaths,  I  always  tell  him  I  shan't  keep 
them  if  he's  going  to  confide  anything  wicked ;  but  his 
secrets  are  harmless  enough.  The  last  was  a  wonderful 
hiding-place.  He  spends  many  hours  in  it.  I  nearly 
broke  my  neck  getting  there.  That's  how  far  we've 
reached  these  holidays;  and  after  next  term  I  shall  try 
again." 

"  He's  got  a  heart,  if  one  could  only  reach  it,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  A  very  hot  heart.  I  shall  try  to  extend  his  sympa- 
thies when  he  comes  back." 

Her  intention  added  further  fuel  to  the  fire  burning  in 
Raymond's  own  thoughts.  He  saw  both  danger  and  hope 

387 


388  THE  SPINNERS 

in  the  situation,  as  it  might  develop  from  this  point.  The 
time  was  drawing  nearer  when  he  meant  to  ask  Estelle  to 
marry  him,  and  since  he  looked  now  at  life  and  all  its 
relations  from  this  standpoint,  he  began  to  consider  his 
son  therefrom. 

On  the  whole  he  was  cheered  by  Estelle's  achievements 
and  argued  well  of  them.  The  danger  he  set  aside,  and 
chose  rather  to  reflect  on  the  hope.  With  Abel  back  at 
school  again  and  his  mother  in  a  more  placid  temper,  there 
came  a  moment  of  peace.  Ironsyde  was  able  to  forget 
them  and  did  so  thankfully,  while  he  concentrated  on  the 
task  before  him.  He  felt  very  doubtful,  both  of  Estelle's 
response  and  her  father's  view.  The  girl  herself,  however, 
was  all  that  mattered,  for  Waldron  would  most  surely  ap- 
prove her  choice  whatever  it  might  be.  Arthur  had  of 
late,  however,  been  giving  it  as  his  opinion  that  his  daugh- 
ter would  not  marry.  He  had  decided  that  she  was  not 
the  marrying  sort,  and  told  Raymond  as  much. 

"  The  married  state's  too  limited  for  her :  her  energies 
are  too  tremendous  to  leave  any  time  for  being  a  wife.  To 
bottle  Estelle  down  to  a  husband  and  children  is  impos- 
sible. They  wouldn't  be  enough  for  her  intellect." 

This  had  been  said  some  time  before,  when  unconscious 
of  Ironsyde's  growing  emotions ;  but  of  late  he  had  sus- 
pected them  and  was,  therefore,  more  guarded  in  his 
prophecies. 

Then  came  a  shock,  which  delayed  progress,  for  Abel 
thrust  himself  to  the  front  of  his  mind  again.  Estelle  cor- 
responded with  her  new  friend,  and  the  boy  had  heard 
from  her  that  in  future  he  must  thank  his  father  for  his 
education.  She  felt  that  it  was  time  he  knew  this,  and 
hoped  that  he  would  now  be  sane  enough  to  let  the  fact 
influence  him.  It  did,  but  not  as  she  had  expected.  In- 
stead there  came  the  news  that  Abel  had  been  expelled. 
He  deliberately  refused  to  proceed  with  his  work,  and, 
when  challenged,  explained  that  he  would  learn  no  more  at 
his  father's  expense. 


THE  RUNAWAY  389 

Nothing  moved  him,  and  Estelle's  well-meant  but  ill- 
judged  action  merely  served  to  terminate  Abel's  education 
for  good  and  all. 

The  boy  was  rapidly  becoming  a  curse  to  his  father. 
Puritans,  who  knew  the  story,  welcomed  its  development 
and  greeted  each  phase  with  religious  enthusiasm;  but 
others  felt  the  situation  to  be  growing  absurd.  Raymond 
himself  so  regarded  it,  and  when  Abel  returned  home  again 
he  insisted  on  seeing  him. 

"  You  can  be  present  if  you  wish  to  be,"  he  told  Sabina, 
but  she  expressed  no  such  desire.  Her  attitude  was  modi- 
fied of  late,  and,  largely  under  the  influence  of  Estelle,  she 
began  to  see  the  futility  of  this  life-enmity  declared  against 
Raymond  by  her  son.  Of  old  she  had  thought  it  natural, 
and  while  not  supporting  it  had  made  no  effort  to  crush 
it  out  of  him.  Now  she  perceived  that  it  could  come  to 
nothing  and  only  breed  bitterness.  She  had,  therefore, 
begun  to  tone  her  indifference  and  withhold  the  little  bitter 
speeches  that  only  fortified  Abel's  hate.  She  had  even 
argued  with  him  —  lamely  enough  —  and  advised  him  not 
to  persist  in  a  dislike  of  his  father  that  could  not  serve  him 
in  after  life. 

But  he  had  continued  to  rejoice  in  his  hatred.  While 
Estelle  hoped  with  Sabina  to  break  down  his  obstinacy, 
he  actually  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  Estelle  would 
hate  his  enemy  also.  He  had  been  sorry  to  see  his  mother 
weakening  and  even  blaming  him  for  his  opinions. 

But  now  he  was  faced  with  his  father  under  conditions 
from  which  there  was  no  escape.  The  meeting  took  place 
in  Mr.  Churchouse's  study  and  Abel  was  called  to  listen, 
whether  he  would  or  no.  Raymond  knew  that  the  child 
understood  the  situation  and  he  did  not  mince  words.  He 
kept  his  temper  and  exhausted  his  arguments. 

"  Abel,"  he  said,  "  you've  got  to  heed  me  now,  and  what- 
ever you  may  feel,  you  must  use  your  self-control  and  your 
brains.  I'm  speaking  entirely  for  your  sake  and  I'm  only 
concerned  for  your  future.  If  you  would  use  your  reason, 


390  THE  SPINNERS 

it  would  show  you  that  the  things  you  have  done  and  are 
doing  can't  hurt  me;  they  can  only  hurt  yourself;  and 
what  is  the  good  of  hurting  yourself,  because  you  don't 
like  me?  If  you  had  burned  down  the  works,  the  insurance 
offices  would  have  paid  me  back  all  the  money  they  were 
worth,  and  the  only  people  to  suffer  would  have  been  the 
men  and  women  you  threw  out  of  work.  So,  when  you 
tried  to  hurt  me,  you  were  only  hurting  other  people  and 
yourself.  Boys  who  do  that  sort  of  thing  are  called 
embryo  criminals,  and  that's  what  they  are.  But  for  me 
and  the  great  kindness  and  humanity  of  other  men  —  my 
friends  on  the  magistrates'  bench  —  you  would  have  been 
sent  to  a  reformatory  after  that  affair;  but  your  fellow 
creatures  forgave  you  and  were  very  good  to  me  also,  and 
let  you  go  free  on  consideration  that  I  would  be  responsible 
for  you.  Then  I  sent  you  to  a  good  school,  where  noth- 
ing was  known  against  you.  Now  you  have  been  expelled 
from  that  school,  because  you  won't  work,  or  go  on  with 
your  education.  And  your  reason  is  that  I  am  paying 
for  your  education  and  you  won't  accept  anything  at  my 
hands. 

"  But  think  what  precisely  this  means.  It  doesn't  hurt 
me  in  the  least.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  makes  not  a 
shadow  of  difference.  I  have  no  secrets  about  things. 
Everybody  knows  the  situation,  and  everybody  knows  I 
recognise  my  obligations  where  you  are  concerned  and 
wish  to  be  a  good  father  to  you.  Therefore,  if  you  refuse 
to  let  me  be,  nobody  is  hurt  but  yourself,  because  none  can 
take  my  place.  You  don't  injure  my  credit;  you  only 
lose  your  own.  The  past  was  past,  and  people  had  begun 
to  forget  what  you  did  two  years  ago.  Now  you've  re- 
minded them  by  this  folly,  and  I  tell  you  that  you  are  too 
old  to  be  so  foolish.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  lead  a  dignified,  honourable  and  useful  life.  You  have 
far  better  opportunities  than  thousands  and  thousands  of 
boys,  and  far  better  and  more  powerful  friends  than 
ninety-nine  boys  out  of  a  hundred. 


THE  RUNAWAY  391 

"  Then  why  fling  away  your  chances  and  be  impossible 
and  useless  and  an  enemy  to  society,  when  society  only 
wants  to  be  your  friend?  What  is  the  good?  What  do 
you  gain?  And  what  do  I  lose?  You're  not  hurting  me; 
but  you're  hurting  and  distressing  your  mother.  You're 
old  enough  to  understand  all  this,  and  if  your  mother  can 
feel  as  I  know  she  feels  and  ask  you  to  consider  your  own 
future  and  look  forward  in  a  sensible  spirit,  instead  of 
looking  back  in  a  senseless  one,  then  surely,  for  her  sake 
alone,  you  ought  to  be  prepared  to  meet  me  and  turn  over 
a  new  leaf. 

"  For  you  won't  tire  out  my  patience,  or  break  my 
heart.  I  never  know  when  I'm  beat,  and  since  my  wish  is 
only  your  good,  neither  you,  nor  anybody,  will  choke  me 
off  it.  I  ask  you  now  to  promise  that,  if  I  send  you  to 
another  school,  you'll  work  hard  and  complete  your  educa- 
tion and  qualify  yourself  for  a  useful  place  in  the  world 
afterwards.  That's  what  you've  got  to  do,  and  I  hope 
you  see  it.  Then  your  future  will  be  my  affair,  for,  as  my 
son,  I  shall  be  glad  and  willing  to  help  you  on  in  whatever 
course  of  life  you  may  choose. 

"  So  that's  the  position.  You  see  I've  given  you  the 
credit  of  being  a  sane  and  reasonable  being,  and  I  want 
you  to  decide  as  a  sane  and  reasonable  being.  You  can 
go  on  hating  me  as  much  as  you  please ;  but  don't  go  on 
queering  your  own  pitch  and  distressing  your  mother  and 
making  your  future  dark  and  difficult,  when  it  should  be 
bright  and  easy.  Promise  me  that  you'll  go  back  to  a 
new  school  and  work  your  hardest  to  atone  for  this  non- 
sense and  I'll  take  your  word  for  it.  And  I  don't  ask  for 
my  own  sake  —  always  remember  that.  I  ask  you  for 
your  own  sake  and  your  mother's." 

With  bent  head  the  boy  scowled  up  under  his  eyebrows 
during  this  harangue.  He  answered  immediately  Ray- 
mond had  finished  and  revealed  passion. 

"  And  what,  if  I  say  <  no  '?  " 

"  I  hope  you  won't  be  so  foolish." 


392  THE  SPINNERS 

"  I  do  say  '  no,'  then  —  a  thousand  times  I  say  it.  Be- 
cause if  you  bring  me  up,  you  get  all  the  credit.  You 
shan't  get  credit  from  me.  And  I'll  bring  myself  up  with- 
out any  help  from  you.  I  know  I'm  different  from  other 
boys,  because  you  didn't  marry  my  mother.  And  that's 
a  fearful  wrong  to  her,  and  you're  not  going  to  get  out 
of  that  by  anything  I  can  do.  You're  wicked  and  cow- 
ardly to  my  mother,  and  she's  Mister  Churchouse's  serv- 
ant, instead  of  being  your  wife  and  having  servants  of  her 
own,  and  I'm  a  poor  woman's  son  instead  of  being  a  rich 
man's  son,  as  I  ought  to  be.  All  that's  been  told  me  by 
them  who  know  it.  And  you're  a  bad  man,  and  I  hate 
you,  and  I  shall  always  hate  you  as  long  as  you  live.  And 
I'll  never  be  beholden  to  you  for  anything,  because  my  life 
is  no  good  now,  and  my  mother's  life  is  no  good  neither. 
And  if  I  thought  she  was  taking  a  penny  of  -your  monev, 
I'd " 

His  temper  upset  him  and  he  burst  into  tears.  The 
emotion  only  served  to  increase  his  anger. 

"  I'm  crying  for  hate,"  he  said.     "  Hate,  hate,  hate !  " 

Raymond  looked  at  the  boy  curiously. 

"  Poor  little  chap,  I  wish  to  God  I  could  make  you  see 
sense.  You've  got  the  substance  and  are  shouting  for  the 
shadow,  which  you  can  never  have.  You  talk  like  a  man, 
so  I'll  answer  you  like  a  man  and  advise  you  not  to  listen 
to  the  evil  tongue  of  those  who  bear  no  kindly  thought  to 
me,  or  you  either.  What  is  the  sense  of  all  this  hate? 
Granted  wrong  things  happened,  how  are  you  helping  to 
right  the  wrong?  Where  is  the  sense  of  this  blind  enmity 
against  me?  I  can't  call  back  the  past,  any  more  than 
you  can  call  back  the  tears  you  have  just  shed.  Then 
whv  waste  nervous  energy  and  strength  on  all  this  silly 
hate?" 

"  Because  it  makes  me  better  and  stronger  to  hate  you. 
It  makes  me  a  man  quicker  to  hate  you.  You  say  I  talk 
like  a  man  —  that's  because  I  hate  like  a  man." 


THE  RUNAWAY  393 

"  You  talk  like  a  very  silly  man,  and  if  you  grow  up  into 
a  man  hating  me,  you'll  grow  up  a  bitter,  twisted  sort  of 
man  —  no  good  to  anybody.  A  man  with  a  grievance  is 
only  a  nuisance  to  his  neighbours ;  and  seeing  what  your 
grievance  is,  and  that  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  do  every- 
thing in  a  father's  power  to  lessen  that  grievance  and 
retrieve  the  mistakes  of  the  past  —  remembering,  too,  that 
everybody  knows  my  good  intentions  —  you'll  really  get 
none  to  care  for  your  troubles.  Instead,  all  sensible  peo- 
ple will  tell  you  that  they  are  largely  of  your  own  making." 

"  The  more  you  talk,  the  more  I  hate  you,"  said  the 
boy.  "  If  I  never  heard  your  voice  again  and  never  saw 
your  face  again,  still  I'd  always  hate  you.  I  don't  hate 
anything  else  in  the  world  but  you.  I  wouldn't  spare  a 
bit  of  hate  for  anything  but  you.  I  won't  be  your  son 
now  —  never." 

"  Well,  run  away  then.  You'll  live  to  be  sorry  for  feel- 
ing and  speaking  so,  Abel.  I  won't  trouble  you  again. 
Next  time  we  meet,  I  hope  you  will  come  to  me." 

The  boy  departed  and  the  man  considered.  It  seemed 
that  harm  irreparable  was  wrought,  and  a  reconciliation, 
that  might  have  been  easy  in  Abel's  childhood,  when  he 
was  too  young  to  appreciate  their  connection,  had  now 
become  impossible,  since  he  had  grown  old  enough  to  un- 
derstand it.  He  would  not  be  Raymond's  son.  He  de- 
clined the  filial  relationship  —  doubtless  prompted  thereto 
from  his  earliest  days,  first  on  one  admonition,  then  at 
another.  The  leaven  had  been  mixed  with  his  blood  by  his 
mother,  in  his  infant  mind  by  his  grandmother,  in  his  soul 
by  fellow  men  as  he  grew  towards  adolescence. 

Yet  from  Sabina  herself  the  poison  had  almost  passed 
away.  In  the  light  of  these  new  difficulties  she  grew 
anxious,  and  began  to  realise  how  fatally  Abel's  possession 
was  standing  in  his  own  light.  She  loved  him,  but  not  pas- 
sionately. He  would  soon  be  sixteen  and  her  point  of  view 
changed.  She  had  listened  long  to  Estelle  and  began  to 


394  THE  SPINNERS 

understand  that,  whatever  dark  memories  and  errors  be- 
longed to  Raymond  Ironsyde's  past,  he  designed  nothing 
but  generous  goodness  for  their  son  in  the  future. 

After  the  meeting  with  Abel,  Raymond  saw  Sabina  and 
described  what  had  occurred;  but  she  could  only  express 
her  regrets.  She  declared  herself  more  hopeful  than  he 
and  promised  to  reason  with  the  boy  to  the  best  of  her 
power. 

"  I've  never  stood  against  you  with  him,  and  I've  never 
stood  for  you  with  him.  I've  kept  out  of  it  and  not  influ- 
enced for  or  against,"  she  said.  "  But  now  I'll  do  more 
than  that;  I'll  try  and  influence  him  for  you." 

Raymond  was  obliged. 

"  I  shall  be  very  grateful  to  you  if  you  can.  If  there's 
any  human  being  who  carries  weight  with  him,  you  do. 
Such  blistering  frankness  —  such  crooked,  lightning  looks 
of  hate  —  fairly  frighten  me.  I  had  no  idea  any  young 
creature  could  feel  so  much." 

"  He's  going  through  what  I  went  through,  I  suppose," 
she  said.  "  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  or  vex  you  any 
more.  I'm  changed  now  and  tired  of  quarrelling  with 
things  that  can't  be  altered.  When  we  find  the  world's 
sympathy  for  us  is  dead,  then  it's  wiser  to  accept  the  situ- 
ation and  cease  to  run  about  trying  to  wake  it  up  again. 
So  I'll  try  to  show  him  what  the  world  will  be  for  the 
likes  of  him  if  he  hasn't  got  you  behind  him." 

"  Do  —  and  don't  do  it  bitterly.  You  can't  talk  for 
two  minutes  about  the  past  without  getting  bitter  —  un- 
consciously, quite  unconsciously,  Sabina.  And  your  un- 
conscious bitterness  hurts  me  far  more  than  it  hurts  you. 
But  don't  be  bitter  with  him,  or  show  there's  another  side 
of  your  feelings  about  it.  Keep  that  for  me,  if  you  must. 
My  shoulders  are  broad  enough  to  bear  it.  He  is  brim- 
ming with  acid  as  it  is.  Sweeten  his  mind  if  it  is  in  your 
power.  That's  the  only  way  of  salvation,  and  the  only 
chance  of  bringing  him  and  me  together." 

She  promised  to  attempt  it. 


THE  RUNAWAY  395 

"  And  if  I'm  bitter  still,"  she  said,  "  it  is  largely  uncon- 
scious, as  you  say.  You  can't  get  the  taste  of  trouble 
out  of  your  mouth  very  easily  after  you've  been  deluged 
with  it  and  nigh  drowned  in  it,  as  I  have.  It's  only 
an  echo  and  won't  reach  his  ear,  though  it  may  reach 
yours." 

"  Thank  you,  Sabina.  Do  what  you  can,"  he  said,  and 
left  her,  glad  to  get  away  from  the  subject  and  back  to  his 
own  greater  interests. 

He  heard  nothing  more  for  a  few  days,  then  came  the 
news  that  Abel  had  disappeared.  By  night  he  had  van- 
ished and  search  failed  to  find  him. 

Sabina  could  only  state  what  had  gone  before  his  de- 
parture. She  had  spoken  with  him  on  Raymond's  behalf 
and  urged  him  to  reconsider  his  attitude  and  behave 
sensibly  and  worthily.  And  he,  answering  nothing,  had 
gone  to  bed  as  usual;  but  when  she  called  him  next  morn- 
ing, no  reply  came  and  she  found  that  he  had  ridden  away 
on  his  bicycle  in  the  night.  The  country  was  hunted,  but 
without  result,  and  not  for  three  days  did  his  mother  learn 
what  had  become  of  Abel.  Then,  in  reply  to  police  notices 
of  his  disappearance,  there  came  a  letter  from  a  Devon- 
shire dairy  farm,  twenty  miles  to  the  west  of  Bridport. 
The  boy  had  appeared  there  early  in  the  morning  and 
begged  for  some  breakfast.  Then  he  asked  for  something 
to  do.  He  was  now  working  on  trial  for  a  week,  but 
whether  giving  satisfaction  or  no  they  did  not  learn. 

His  mother  went  to  see  him  and  found  him  well  pleased 
with  himself  and  proud  of  what  he  had  accomplished.  He 
explained  to  her  that  he  had  now  taken  his  life  into  his  own 
hands  and  was  not  going  to  look  to  anybody  in  future  but 
himself. 

The  farmer  reported  him  civil  spoken,  willing  to  learn, 
and  quick  to  please.  Indeed,  Abel  had  never  before  won 
such  a  good  character. 

She  left  him  there  happy  and  content,  and  took  no  im- 
mediate steps  to  bring  the  boy  home. 


396  THE  SPINNERS 

It  was  decided  that  a  conference  should  presently  be 
held  of  those  interested  in  Abel. 

"  Since  he  is  safe  and  cheerful  and  doing  honest  work, 
you  need  not  be  in  distress  about  him  at  present,  Sabina," 
said  Ernest  Churchouse ;  "  but  Raymond  Ironsyde  has  no 
intention  that  the  boy  should  miss  an  adequate  education, 
and  wishes  him  to  be  at  school  for  a  couple  of  years  yet, 
if  possible.  It  is  decided  that  we  knock  our  heads  together 
on  the  subject  presently.  We'll  meet  and  try  to  hit  upon 
a  sensible  course.  Meantime  this  glimpse  of  reality  and 
hard  work  at  Knapp  Farm  will  do  him  good.  He  may 
show  talent  in  an  agricultural  direction.  In  any  case, 
you  can  feel  sure  that  whatever  tastes  he  develops,  short 
of  buccaneering,  or  highway  robbery,  will  be  gratified." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    MOTOR    CAR 

RAYMOND  IRONSYDE  felt  somewhat  impatient  of  the  confer- 
ence to  consider  the  situation  of  his  son.  But  since  he  had 
no  authority  and  Sabina  was  anxious  to  do  something,  he 
agreed  to  consult  Mr.  Churchouse. 

They  met  at  '  The  Magnolias,'  where  Miss  Ironsyde 
joined  them;  but  her  old  energy  and  forcible  opinions  had 
faded.  She  did  little  more  than  listen. 

Ironsyde  came  first  and  spoke  to  Ernest  in  a  mood  some- 
what despondent.  They  were  alone  at  the  time,  for 
Sabina  did  not  join  them  until  Estelle  came. 

"Is  there  nothing  in  paternity?"  asked  Raymond. 
"  Isn't  nature  all  powerful  and  blood  thicker  than  water? 
What  is  it  that  over-rides  the  natural  relationship  and 
poisons  him  against  me?  Isn't  a  good  father  a  good 
father?  " 

"  So  much  is  implied  in  this  case,"  answered  the  elder. 
"  He's  old  enough  now  to  understand  what  it  means  to  be 
a  natural  child.  Doubtless  the  disabilities  they  labour 
under  have  been  explained  to  him.  That  fact  is  what  poi- 
sons his  mind,  as  you  say,  and  makes  him  hate  the  blood 
in  his  veins.  We've  got  to  get  over  that  and  find  anti- 
dotes for  the  poison,  if  we  can." 

"  I'm  beginning  to  doubt  if  we  ever  shall,  Uncle  Ernest." 

Sabina  and  Estelle  entered  at  this  moment  and  heard 
Mr.  Churchouse  make  answer. 

"  Be  sure  it  can  be  done.  Every  year  makes  it  more 
certain,  because  with  increase  of  reasoning  power  he'll 
see  the  absurdity  of  this  attitude.  It  is  no  good  to  him  to 
continue  your  enemy." 

"  Increase  of  reason  cuts  both  ways.     It  shows  him  his 

397 


398  THE  SPINNERS 

grievances,  as  well  as  what  will  pay  him  best  in  the  future. 
He's  faced  with  a  clash  of  reason." 

"  Reason  I  grant  springs  from  different  inspirations," 
admitted  Ernest.  "  There's  the  reason  of  the  heart  and 
the  reason  of  the  head  —  yes,  the  heart  has  its  reasons, 
too.  And  though  the  head  may  not  appreciate  them,  they 
exercise  their  weight  and  often  conquer." 

Soon  there  came  a  carriage  from  Bridport  and  Miss 
Ironsyde  joined  them. 

"  Oh !  I'm  glad  to  see  a  fire,"  she  said,  and  sat  close 
beside  it  in  an  easy  chair. 

Then  Raymond  spoke. 

"  It  is  good  of  you  all  to  come  and  lend  a  hand  over  this 
difficult  matter.  I  appreciate  it,  and  specially  I  thank 
Sabina  for  letting  us  consider  her  son's  welfare.  She 
knows  that  we  all  want  to  befriend  him  and  that  we  all  are 
his  friends.  It's  rather  difficult  for  me  to  say  much ;  but 
if  you  can  show  me  how  to  do  anything  practical  and 
establish  Abel's  position  and  win  his  goodwill,  at  any  cost 
to  myself,  I  shall  thank  you.  I've  done  what  I  could,  but 
I  confess  this  finds  me  beaten  for  the  moment.  You'd 
better  say  what  you  all  think,  and  see  if  you  agree." 

The  talk  that  followed  was  inconsequent  and  rambling. 
For  a  considerable  time  it  led  nowhere.  Miss  Ironsyde 
was  taciturn.  It  occupied  all  her  energies  to  conceal  the 
fact  that  she  was  suffering  a  good  deal  of  physical  pain. 
She  made  no  original  suggestions.  Churchouse,  accord- 
ing to  his  wont,  generalised ;  but  it  was  through  a  general- 
isation that  they  approached  something  definite. 

"  He  has  yet  to  learn  that  we  cannot  live  to  ourselves, 
or  design  life's  pattern  single-handed,"  declared  Ernest. 
"  Life,  in  fact,  is  rather  like  a  blind  man  weaving  a  basket : 
we  never  see  our  work,  and  we  have  to  trust  others  for  the 
material.  And  if  we  better  realised  how  blind  we  were,  we 
should  welcome  and  invite  criticism  more  freely  than 
we  do." 

"  No  man  makes  his  own  life  —  I've  come  to  see  that," 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  399 

admitted  Raymond.  "  The  design  seems  to  depend  much 
on  your  fellow  creatures ;  your  triumph  or  failure  is 
largely  the  work  of  others.  But  it  depends  on  your  own 
judgment  to  the  extent  that  you  can  choose  what  fellow 
creatures  shall  help  you." 

Estelle  approved  this. 

"  And  if  we  could  only  show  Abel  that,  and  make  him 
feel  this  determination  to  be  independent  of  everybody  is  a 
mistake.  But  he  told  me  once,  most  reasonably,  that  he 
didn't  mind  depending  on  those  who  were  good  to  him.  He 
said  he  would  trust  them." 

"  Trust's  everything.  It  centres  on  that.  Can  I  get 
his  trust,  or  can't  I?  " 

"  Not  for  the  present,  Ray.  I  expect  his  mind  is  in  a 
turmoil  over  this  running  away.  It's  all  my  fault  and  I 
take  the  blame.  Until  he  can  think  calmly  you'll  never  get 
any  power  over  him.  The  thing  is  to  fill  his  mind  full 
with  something  else." 

"  Find  out  if  you  can  what's  in  his  thoughts,"  advised 
Sabina.  "  We  say  this  and  that  and  the  other,  and  plan 
what  must  be  done,  but  I  judge  the  first  person  to  ask  for 
an  opinion  is  Abel  himself.  When  people  are  talking 
about  the  young,  the  last  thought  in  their  minds  is  what 
the  young  are  thinking  themselves.  They  never  get  asked 
what's  in  their  minds,  yet,  if  we  knew,  it  might  make  all 
the  difference." 

"  Very  sound,  Sabina,"  admitted  Mr.  Churchouse ; 
"  and  you  should  know  what's  in  his  mind  if  anybody 
does." 

"  I  should  no  doubt,  but  I  don't.  I've  never  been  in  the 
boy's  secrets,  or  I  might  have  been  more  to  him.  But 
that's  not  to  say  nobody  could  win  them.  Any  clever  boy 
getting  on  for  sixteen  years  should  have  plenty  of  ideas, 
and  if  you  could  find  them,  it  might  save  a  lot  of  trouble." 

She  turned  to  Estelle  as  she  spoke. 

"  He's  often  told  me  things,"  said  Estelle,  "  and  he's 
often  been  going  to  tell  me  others  and  stopped  —  not  be- 


400  THE  SPINNERS 

cause  he  thought  I'd  laugh  at  him;  but  because  he  was 
doubtful  of  me.  But  he  knows  I  can  keep  secrets  now." 

"  He  must  be  treated  as  an  adult,"  decided  Ernest. 
"  Sabina  is  perfectly  right.  We  must  give  him  credit  for 
more  sense  than  he  has  yet  discovered,  and  appeal  directly 
to  his  pride.  I  think  there  are  great  possibilities  about 
him  if  he  can  only  be  brought  to  face  them.  His  ruling 
passion  must  be  discovered.  One  has  marked  a  love  of 
mystery  in  him  and  a  wonderful  power  of  make-believe. 
These  are  precious  promises,  rightly  guided.  They  point 
to  imagination  and  originality.  He  may  have  the  makings 
of  an  artist.  Without  exaggeration,  I  should  say  he  had 
an  artist's  temperament  without  being  an  artist;  but  art 
is  an  elastic  term.  It  must  mean  creative  instinct,  how- 
ever, and  he  has  shown  that.  It  has  so  far  taken  the 
shape  of  a  will  to  create  disaster ;  but  why  should  we  not 
lead  his  will  into  another  channel  and  help  it  to  create 
something  worthy?  " 

"  He's  fond  of  machinery,"  said  Sabina,  "  and  very 
clever  with  his  hands." 

"  Could  your  child  be  anything  but  clever  with  his 
hands,  Sabina?  "  said  Estelle. 

"  Or  mine  be  anything  but  fond  of  machinery?  "  asked 
Raymond. 

He  meant  no  harm,  but  this  blunt  and  rather  brutal 
claim  to  fatherhood  made  Sabina  flinch.  It  was  natural 
that  she  never  could  school  herself  to  accept  the  situation 
in  open  conversation  without  reserve,  and  all  but  Ironsyde 
himself  appreciated  the  silence  which  fell  upon  her.  His 
speech,  indeed,  showed  lack  of  sensibility,  yet  it  could 
hardly  be  blamed,  since  only  through  acceptation  of 
realities  might  any  hopeful  action  be  taken.  But  the  harm 
was  dorie  and  the  delicate  poise  of  the  situation  between 
Abel's  parents  upset.  Sabina  said  no  more,  and  in  the 
momentary  silence  that  followed  she  rose  and  left  them. 

'*  What  clumsy  fools  even  nice  men  can  be,"  sighed  Miss 
Ironsyde,  and  Churchouse  spoke. 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  401 

"  Leave  Sabina  to  me,"  he  said.  "  I'll  comfort  her  when 
you've  gone.  There  is  a  certain  ingrained  stupidity  from 
which  no  man  escapes  in  the  presence  of  women.  They 
may,  or  may  not,  conceal  their  feelings ;  but  we  all  uncon- 
sciously bruise  and  wound  them.  Sabina  did  not  conceal 
hers.  She  is  quick  in  mind  as  well  as  body.  What  mat- 
ters is  that  she  knows  exceedingly  well  we  are  all  on  her 
side  and  all  valuable  friends  for  the  lad.  Now  let  us  re- 
turn to  the  point.  I  think  with  Estelle  that  Abel  may 
have  something  of  the  artist  in  him.  He  drew  exceedingly 
well  as  a  child.  You  can  see  his  pictures  in  Sabina's  room. 
Such  a  gift  if  developed  might  waken  a  sense  of  power." 

"  If  he  knew  great  things  were  within  his  reach,  he  would 
not  disdain  the  means  to  reach  them,"  said  Miss  Ironsyde. 
"  I  do  think  if  the  boy  felt  his  own  possibilities  more  —  if 
we  could  waken  ambition  —  he  would  grow  larger-minded. 
Hate  always  runs  counter  to  our  interests  in  the  long  run, 
because  it  wastes  our  energy  and,  if  people  only  knew  it, 
revenge  is  really  not  sweet,  but  exceedingly  bitter." 

"  I  suggest  this,"  said  Ironsyde :  "  that  Uncle  Ernest 
and  Estelle  visit  the  boy  —  not  in  any  spirit  of  weakness, 
or  with  any  concessions,  or  attempts  to  change  his  mind ; 
but  simply  to  learn  his  mind.  Sabina  was  right  there. 
We'll  approach  him  as  we  should  any  other  intelligent  be- 
ing, and  invite  his  opinion,  and  see  if  it  be  reasonable,  or 
unreasonable.  And  if  it  is  reasonable,  then  I  ought  to  be 
able  to  serve  him,  if  he'll  let  me  do  so." 

"  I  shall  certainly  do  what  you  wish,"  agreed  Ernest. 
"  Estelle  and  I  will  form  a  deputation  to  this  difficult  cus- 
tomer and  endeavour  to  find  out  what  his  lordship  really 
proposes  and  desires.  Then,  if  we  can  prove  to  him  that 
he  must  look  to  his  fellow  creatures  to  advance  his  wel- 
fare ;  if  we  can  succeed  in  showing  him  that  not  even  the 
youngest  of  us  can  stand  alone,  perhaps  we  shall  achieve 
something." 

"  And  if  he  won't  let  me  help,  perhaps  he'll  let  you,  or 
Estelle,  or  Aunt  Jenny.  Agree  if  he  makes  any  possible 


402  THE  SPINNERS 

stipulation.  It  doesn't  matter  a  button  where  he  sup- 
poses help  is  coming  from:  the  thing  is  that  he  should  not 
know  it  is  really  coming  from  me." 

"  I  hope  we  may  succeed  without  craft  of  that  sort, 
Raymond,"  declared  Mr.  Churchouse ;  "  but  I  shall  not 
hesitate  to  employ  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  —  if  the  olive 
branch  of  the  dove  fails  to  meet  the  situation.  I  trust, 
however,  more  to  Estelle  than  myself.  She  is  nearer  Abel 
in  point  of  time,  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  bridge  a  great 
gulf  of  years.  We  old  men  talk  in  another  language  than 
the  young  use,  and  the  scenery  that  fills  their  eyes  —  why, 
it  has  already  vanished  beneath  our  horizons.  Narrowing 
vision  too  often  begets  narrowing  sympathies  and  we  de- 
press youth  as  much  as  youth  puzzles  us." 

"  True,  Ernest,"  said  Miss  Ironsyde.  "  Have  you 
noticed  how  a  natural  instinct  makes  the  young  long  to 
escape  from  the  presence  of  age?  The  young  breathe 
more  freely  out  of  sight  of  grey  heads." 

"  And  the  grey  heads  survive  their  absence  without  diffi- 
culty," confessed  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  But  we  are  a  tonic 
to  each  other.  They  help  us  to  see,  Jenny,  and  we  must 
help  them  to  feel." 

"  Abel  shall  help  us  to  see  his  point  of  view,  and  we'll 
help  him  to  feel  who  his  best  friends  are,"  promised  Estelle. 

Raymond  had  astonished  Bridport  and  staggered  Bride- 
town  with  a  wondrous  invention.  The  automobile  was 
born,  and  since  it  appealed  very  directly  to  him,  he  had 
acquired  one  of  the  first  of  the  new  vehicles  at  some  cost, 
and  not  only  did  he  engage  a  skilled  mechanic  to  drive  it, 
but  himself  devoted  time  and  pains  to  mastering  the  ma- 
chine. He  believed  in  it  very  stoutly,  and  held  that  in  time 
to  come  it  must  bulk  as  a  most  important  industrial  fac- 
tor. Already  he  predicted  motor  traction  on  a  large 
scale,  while  yet  the  invention  was  little  more  than  a  new 
toy  for  the  wealthy. 

And  now  this  car  served  a  useful  purpose  and  Mr. 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  403 

Churchouse,  in  some  fear  and  trembling,  ventured  a  first 
ride.  Estelle  accompanied  him  and  together  they  drove 
through  the  pleasant  lands  where  Dorset  meets  Devon,  to 
Knapp  Farm  under  Knapp  Copse,  midway  between  Coly- 
ton  and  Ottery  St.  Mary,  on  a  streamlet  tributary  of  the 
Sid. 

Mr.  Churchouse  was  amazed  and  bewildered  at  this  new 
experience;  Estelle,  who  had  already  enjoyed  some  long 
rides,  supported  him,  lulled  his  anxieties  and  saw  that  he 
kept  warm. 

Soon  they  sighted  the  ridge  which  gave  Knapp  its  name, 
and  presently  met  Abel,  who  knew  that  they  were  coming. 
He  stood  on  the  tumuli  at  the  top  of  the  knoll  and  awaited 
them  with  interest.  His  master,  from  first  enthusiasms, 
now  spoke  indifferently  of  him,  declared  him  an  average 
boy,  and  cared  not  whether  they  took  him,  or  left  him. 
As  for  Abel  himself,  he  slighted  both  Estelle  and  Mr.  Chur- 
chouse at  first,  and  appeared  for  a  time  quite  oblivious  to 
their  approaches.  He  was  only  interested  in  the  car, 
which  stood  drawn  up  in  an  open  shed  at  the  side  of  the 
farmyard.  He  concentrated  here,  desired  the  company 
of  the  driver  alone,  and  could  with  difficulty  be  drawn  away 
to  listen  to  the  travellers  and  declare  his  own  ambitions. 

He  was,  however,  not  sorry  to  see  Estelle,  and  when, 
presently,  they  lured  him  away  from  the  motor,  he  talked 
to  them.  He  bragged  about  his  achievement  in  running 
away  and  finding  work ;  but  he  was  not  satisfied  with  the 
work  itself. 

"  It  was  only  to  see  if  I  could  live  in  the  world  on  my 
own,"  he  said,  "  and  now  I  know  I  can.  Nobody's  got  any 
hold  on  me  now,  because  if  you  can  earn  your  food  and 
clothes,  you're  free  of  everybody.  I  don't  tell  them  here, 
but  I  could  work  twice  as  hard  and  do  twice  as  much  if  it 
was  worth  while;  only  it  isn't." 

"  If  you  get  wages,  you  ought  to  earn  them,"  said 
Estelle. 

"  I  do,"  he  explained.     "  I  get  a  shilling  a  day  and  my 


404  THE  SPINNERS 

grub,  and  I  earn  all  that.  But,  of  course,  I'm  not  going 
to  be  a  farmer.  I'm  just  learning  about  the  land  —  then 
I'm  going.  Nobody's  clever  here.  But  I  like  taking  it 
easy  and  being  my  own  master." 

"  You  oughtn't  to  take  it  easy  at  your  time  of  life, 
Abel,"  declared  Estelle.  "  You  oughtn't  to  leave  school 
yet,  and  I  very  much  hope  you'll  go  back." 

"  Never,"  he  said.  "  I  couldn't  stop  there  after  I  knew 
he  was  paying  for  it.  Or  anywhere  else.  I'm  not  going 
to  thank  him  for  anything." 

"  But  you  stand  in  the  light  of  your  own  usefulness," 
she  explained.  "  The  thing  is  for  a  boy  to  do  all  in  his 
power  to  make  himself  a  useful  man,  and  by  coming  here 
and  doing  ploughboy's  work,  when  you  might  be  learning 
and  increasing  your  own  value  in  the  world,  you  are  being 
an  idiot,  Abel.  If  you  let  your  father  educate  you,  then, 
in  the  future,  you  can  pay  him  back  splendidly  and  with 
interest  for  all  he  has  done  for  you.  There's  no  obliga- 
tion then  —  simply  a  fair  bargain." 

His  face  hardened  and  he  frowned. 

"  I  may  pay  him  for  all  he's  done  for  me,  whether  or 
no,"  he  answered.  "  Anyway,  I  don't  want  any  more  book 
learning.  I'm  a  man  very  nearly,  and  a  lot  cleverer,  as  it 
is,  than  the  other  men  here.  I  shall  stop  here  for  a  bit. 
I  want  to  be  let  alone  and  I  will  be  let  alone." 

"  Not  at  all,"  declared  Mr.  Churchouse.  "  You're 
going  back  on  yourself,  Abel,  and  if  you  stop  here,  hoeing 
turnips  and  what  not,  you'll  soon  find  a  great  disaster 
happening  to  you.  You  will  indeed  —  just  the  very  thing 
you  don't  want  to  happen.  You  pride  yourself  on  being 
clever.  Well,  cleverness  can't  stand  still,  you  know.  You 
go  back,  or  forward.  Here,  you'll  go  back  and  get  as 
slow-witted  as  other  ploughboys.  You  think  you  won't, 
but  you  will.  The  mud  on  your  boots  will  work  up  into 
your  mind,  and  instead  of  being  full  of  great  ideas  for  the 
future,  you'll  gradually  forget  all  about  them.  And  that 
would  be  a  disgrace  to  you." 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  405 

Abel  showed  himself  rather  impressed  with  this  peril. 

"  I  shall  read  books,"  he  said. 

"Where  will  you  get  them?  "  asked  Estelle.  "  Besides, 
after  long  days  working  out  of  doors,  you'll  be  much  too 
tired  to  read  books,  or  go  on  with  your  studies.  I  know, 
because  I've  tried  it." 

"  Quies  was  the  god  of  rest  in  ancient  Rome,"  proceeded 
Mr.  Churchouse,  "  but  he  was  no  god  for  youth.  The 
elderly  turned  their  weary  bodies  to  his  shrine  and  deco- 
rated his  altars  —  not  the  young.  But  for  you,  Abel, 
there  are  radiant  goddesses,  and  their  names  are  Stim- 
ula  and  Strenua.  To  them  you  must  pay  suit  and 
service,  and  your  motto  should  be  *  Able  and  Will- 
ing.'  » 

"  Of  course,"  cried  Estelle ;  "  but  instead  of  that,  you 
ask  to  be  let  alone,  to  turn  slowly  and  surely  into  a  plough- 
boy!  Why,  the  harm  is  already  beginning!  And  you 
may  be  quite  sure  that  nobody  who  cares  for  you  is  going 
to  see  you  turn  into  a  ploughboy." 

They  produced  some  lunch  presently  and  Abel  enjoyed 
the  good  fare.  For  a  time  they  pressed  him  no  more,  but 
when  the  meal  was  taken,  let  him  show  them  places  of  in- 
terest. While  Estelle  visited  the  farm  with  him  and  heard 
all  about  his  work,  Mr.  Churchouse  discussed  the  boy  with 
his  master.  Nothing  could  then  be  settled,  and  it  was 
understood  that  Abel  should  stop  at  Knapp  until  the 
farmer  heard  more  concerning  him. 

Estelle  advanced  the  good  cause  very  substantially,  how- 
ever, and  felt  sanguine  of  the  future;  for  alone  with  her, 
Abel  confessed  that  farming  gave  him  no  pleasure  and  that 
his  ambition  was  set  on  higher  things. 

"  I  shall  be  an  engineer  some  day,"  he  said.  "  Presently 
I  shall  go  where  there  is  machinery,  and  begin  at  the  bot- 
tom and  work  up  to  the  top.  I  know  a  lot  more  about  it 
than  you  might  think,  as  it  is." 

"  I  know  you  do,"  she  said.  "  And  there's  nothing  your 
mother  would  like  better  than  engineering  for  you.  Be- 


406  THE  SPINNERS 

sides,  a  boy  begins  that  when  he's  young,  and  I  believe 
you  ought  to  be  in  the  shops  soon." 

"  I  shall  be  soon.  Very  likely  the  next  thing  you  hear 
about  me  will  be  that  I  have  disappeared  again.  Then  I 
shall  turn  up  in  a  works  somewhere.  Because  you  needn't 
think  I'm  going  to  be  a  ploughboy.  I  shouldn't  get  level 
with  my  father  by  being  a  ploughboy." 

"  Your  father  would  be  delighted  for  you  to  get  level 
with  him  and  know  as  much  as  he  does,"  she  answered, 
pretending  to  mistake  his  meaning.  "  If  you  said  you 
wanted  to  know  as  much  about  machinery  and  machines 
in  general  as  he  does,  then  he  would  very  soon  set  to  work 
to  help  you  on." 

Abel  considered. 

"  I  won't  take  any  help  from  him ;  but  I'll  do  this  —  to 
suit  myself,  not  him.  I'd  do  it  so  as  I  could  be  near 
mother  and  could  look  after  her.  Because,  when  Mister 
Churchouse  dies,  I'll  have  to  look  after  her." 

"  You  needn't  be  anxious  about  your  mother,  Abel. 
She's  got  plenty  of  friends." 

"  Her  friends  don't  count  if  they're  his  friends,  because 
you  can't  be  my  mother's  friend  and  his  friend,  too.  But 
I'll  go  into  the  spinning  Mill,  and  be  like  anybody  else, 
and  work  for  wages  —  just  the  same  wages  as  any  other 
boy  going  in.  That  won't  be  thanking  him  for  anything." 

Estelle  could  hardly  hide  her  satisfaction  at  this  unex- 
pected concession.  She  dared  not  show  her  pleasure  for 
fear  that  Abel  would  see  it  and  draw  back. 

"  Then  you  could  live  with  mother  and  Mister  Chur- 
chouse," she  said.  "  It  would  be  tremendously  interest- 
ing for  you.  I  wonder  if  you  would  begin  with  Roberts 
at  the  lathes,  or  Cogle  at  the  engines?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Before  I  ran  away,  Nicholas  Roberts 
wanted  somebody  to  help  him  turning.  I've  turned  some- 
times. I'd  begin  like  that  and  rise  to  better  things." 

She  was  careful  not  to  mention  his  father  again. 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  407 

"  I  believe  Mister  Roberts  would  like  to  have  you  in  his 
shop  very  much.  Sarah,  his  wife,  hopes  that  her  son  will 
be  a  lathe-worker  some  day,  but  he's  too  young  to  go  yet." 

"  He'll  never  be  any  good  at  machinery,"  declared  Abel. 
"  I  know  him.  He's  all  for  the  sea." 

They  took  their  leave  presently,  after  Ernest  had  heard 
the  boy's  offer.  He,  too,  was  careful,  but  applauded  the 
suggestion  and  assured  Abel  he  would  be  very  welcome  at 
his  old  home. 

"  I  like  you,  you  know ;  in  fact,  as  a  rule,  we  have  got 
on  very  well  together.  I  believe  you'll  make  an  engineer 
some  day  if  you  remember  the  Roman  goddesses.  To  be 
ambitious  is  the  most  hopeful  thing  we  can  wish  for  youth. 
Always  be  ambitious  —  that's  the  first  essential  for  suc- 
cess." 

But  the  old  man  surprised  Estelle  by  failing  to  share 
her  delight  at  Abel's  decision.  She  for  her  part  felt  that 
the  grand  difficulty  was  passed,  and  that  once  in  his 
father's  Mill,  the  boy  must  sooner  or  later  come  to  reason, 
if  only  by  the  round  of  self-interest;  but  Mr.  Churchouse 
reminded  her  that  another  had  to  be  reckoned  with. 

"  A  most  delicate  situation  would  be  created  in  that 
case,"  he  said.  "  Of  course  I  can't  pretend  to  say  how 
Raymond  will  regard  it.  He  may  see  it  with  your  eyes. 
He  sees  so  many  things  with  your  eyes  —  more  and  more, 
in  fact  —  that  I  hope  he  will ;  but  you  mustn't  be  very 
disappointed  if  he  does  not.  This  cannot  look  to  him  as 
it  does  to  you,  or  even  to  me.  His  point  of  view  may  re- 
ject Abel's  suggestion  altogether  for  various  reasons;  and 
Sabina,  too,  will  very  likely  feel  it  couldn't  happen  without 
awakening  a  great  many  painful  memories." 

"  She  advised  us  to  consult  Abel  and  hear  what  he 
thought." 

"  We  have.  We  return  with  the  great  man's  ultimatum. 
But  I'm  afraid  it  doesn't  follow  that  his  ultimatum  will  be 
accepted.  Even  if  Sabina  felt  she  could  endure  such  an 


408  THE  SPINNERS 

arrangement,  it  is  doubtful  in  the  extreme  whether  Ray- 
mond will.  Indeed  I'll  go  so  far  as  to  prophesy  that  he 
won't." 

Estelle  saw  that  she  had  been  over-sanguine. 

"  There's  one  bright  side,  however,"  he  continued. 
"  We  have  got  something  definite  out  of  the  boy  and  should 
now  be  able  to  help  him  largely  in  spite  of  himself.  Every 
day  he  lives,  he'll  become  more  impressed  with  the  neces- 
sity for  knowledge,  and  if,  for  the  moment,  he  declines  any 
alternative,  he'll  soon  come  round  to  one.  He  knows 
already  that  he  can't  stop  at  Knapp,  so  this  great  and 
perilous  adventure  of  the  automobile  has  been  successful 
—  though  how  successful  we  cannot  tell  yet." 

He  knew,  however,  before  the  day  was  done,  for  Sabina 
felt  very  definitely  on  the  subject.  Yet  her  attitude  was 
curious :  she  held  it  not  necessary  to  express  an  opinion. 

Mr.  Churchouse  came  home  very  cold,  and  while  she 
attended  to  his  needs,  brought  him  hot  drink  and  lighted 
a  fire,  Sabina  listened. 

"  The  boy  is  exceedingly  well,"  he  said.  "  I  never  saw 
his  eye  so  bright,  or  his  skin  so  clear  and  brown.  But  a 
farmer  he  won't  be  for  anybody.  Of  course,  one  never 
thought  he  would." 

When  she  had  heard  Abel's  idea,  she  answered  without 
delay. 

"  It's  a  thousand  pities  he's  set  his  heart  on  that,  be- 
cause it  won't  happen.  What  I  think  doesn't  matter,  of 
course,  but  for  once  you'll  find  his  father  is  of  a  mind  with 
me.  He'll  not  suffer  such  an  arrangement  for  a  moment. 
It's  bringing  the  trouble  too  near.  He  doesn't  want  his 
skeleton  walking  out  of  the  cupboard  into  the  Mill,  and 
whatever  happens,  that  won't." 

She  was  right  enough,  for  when  Raymond  heard  all  that 
Estelle  could  tell  him,  he  decided  instantly  against  any 
such  arrangement. 

"  Impossible,"  he  said.  "  One  needn't  trouble  even  to 
argue  about  it.  But  that  he  would  like  to  be  an  engineer 


THE  MOTOR  CAR  409 

is  quite  healthy.  He  shall  be;  and  he  shall  begin  at  the 
beginning  and  have  every  advantage  possible  —  not  his 
way,  but  mine.  I  argue  ultimate  success  from  this.  It 
eases  my  mind." 

"  All  the  same,  if  you  don't  do  anything,  he'll  only  run 
away  again,"  said  Estelle,  who  was  disappointed. 

"  He  won't  run  far.  Let  him  stop  where  he  is  for  a  few 
months,  till  he's  heartily  sick  of  it  and  ready  to  listen  to 
sense.  Then  perhaps  I'll  go  over  and  see  him  myself. 
You've  done  great  things,  Estelle.  I  feel  more  sanguine 
than  I  have  ever  felt  about  him.  I  wish  I  could  do  what 
he  wants ;  but  that's  impossible  his  way.  However,  I'U  do 
it  in  my  own.  Sense  is  beginning  in  him,  and  that  is  the 
great  and  hopeful  discovery  you've  made." 

"  I'm  ever  so  glad  you're  pleased  about  it,"  she  said. 
"  He  loved  the  motor  car  much  better  than  the  sight  of  us. 
Yet  he  was  glad  to  see  us  too.  He's  really  a  very  human 
boy,  you  know,  Ray." 


CHAPTER  XV 

CRITICISM 

UPON  a  Sunday  afternoon,  Sarah  Roberts  and  her  hus- 
band were  drinking  tea  at  *  The  Seven  Stars.'  They  sat 
in  Nelly  Legg's  private  room,  and  by  some  accident  all 
took  rather  a  gloomy  view  of  life. 

As  for  Nelly,  she  had  been  recently  weighed,  and  de- 
spite drastic  new  treatment,  was  found  to  have  put  on  two 
pounds  in  a  month. 

"  Lord  knows  where  it'll  end,"  she  said.  "  You  can't 
go  on  getting  heavier  and  heavier  for  ever  more.  Even  a 
vegetable  marrow,  and  such  like  things,  reach  their  limit ; 
and  if  they  can  it's  hard  that  a  creature  with  an  immortal 
soul  have  got  to  go  growing  larger  and  larger,  to  her  own 
misery  and  her  husband's  grief.  To  be  smothered  with 
your  own  fat  is  a  proper  cruel  end  I  call  it ;  and  I  haven't 
deserved  it ;  and  it  shakes  my  faith  in  an  all-wise  God,  to 
feel  myself  turning  into  a  useless  mountain  of  flesh. 
Worse  than  useless  in  fact,  because  them  that  can't  work 
themselves  are  certain  sure  to  make  work  for  others. 
Which  I  do." 

"  I  never  knew  anything  so  aggravating,  I'm  sure,"  as- 
sented Nicholas ;  "  but  so  far  as  I  can  see,  if  life  don't 
fret  you  from  within,  it  frets  you  from  without.  It  can't 
leave  you  alone  to  go  on  your  way  in  a  dignified  manner. 
It's  always  intruding,  so  to  speak.  In  fact,  life  comes 
between  us  and  our  living,  if  you  understand  me,  and 
sometimes  for  my  part  I  can  look  on  to  the  end  of  it  with 
a  lot  of  resignation." 

Sentiments  so  unusual  from  her  husband  startled  Mrs. 

Roberts  as  well  as  her  aunt. 

410 


CRITICISM  411 

"  Lor,  Nicholas  !  What's  the  matter  with  you?  "  asked 
Sarah. 

"  It  ain't  often  I  grumble,"  he  answered,  "  and  if  any- 
body's better  at  taking  the  rough  with  the  smooth  than 
me,  I'd  like  to  see  him;  but  there  are  times  when  nature 
craves  for  a  bit  of  pudding,  and  gets  sick  to  death  of  its 
daily  meal  of  bread  and  cheese.  I  speak  in  a  parable, 
however,  because  I  don't  mean  the  body  but  the  mind. 
Your  body  bothers  you,  Missis  Legg,  as  well  it  may ;  but 
your  mind,  thanks  to  your  husband,  is  pretty  peaceful 
year  in  year  out.  In  my  case,  my  body  calls  for  no  atten- 
tion. Thin  as  a  rake  I  am  and  so  shall  continue.  But 
the  tissue  is  good,  and  no  man  is  made  of  better  quality 
stuff.  It's  my  mind  that  turns  in  upon  itself  and  gives  me 
a  pang  now  and  again.  And  the  higher  the  nature  of 
the  mind,  the  worse  its  troubles.  In  fact  the  more  you 
can  feel,  the  more  you  are  made  to  feel ;  and  what  the  mind 
is  built  to  endure,  that,  seemingly,  it  will  be  called  to 
endure." 

But  Nelly  had  no  patience  with  the  philosophy  of  Mr. 
Roberts. 

6  You're  so  windy  when  you've  got  anything  on  your 
chest,"  she  said.  "  You  keep  talking  and  don't  get  any 
forwarder.  What's  the  fuss  about  now?" 

"  You've  been  listening  to  Baggs,  I  expect,"  suggested 
the  wife  of  Nicholas.  "  Baggs  has  got  the  boot  at  last 
and  leaves  at  Christmas,  and  his  pension  don't  please  him, 
so  he's  fairly  bubbling  over  with  verjuice.  I  should  hope 
you'd  got  too  much  sense  to  listen  to  him,  Nick." 

"  So  should  I.  He's  no  more  than  the  winter  wind  in  a 
hedge  at  any  time,"  answered  Mr.  Roberts.  "  Baggs  gets 
attended  to  same  as  a  wasp  gets  attended  to  —  because 
of  his  sting.  All  bad-tempered  people  win  a  lot  more  at- 
tention and  have  their  way  far  quicker  than  us  easy  and 
amiable  ones.  Why,  we  know,  of  course.  Human  na- 
ture's awful  cowardly  at  bottom  and  will  always  choose 
the  easiest  way  to  escape  the  threatened  wrath  of  a  bad 


412  THE  SPINNERS 

temper.  In  fact,  fear  makes  the  world  go  round,  not  love, 
as  silly  people  pretend.  In  my  case  I  feel  much  like  Sa- 
bina  Dinnett,  who  was  talking  about  life  not  a  week  ago 
in  the  triangle  under  the  sycamore  tree.  And  she  said, 
'  Those  who  do  understand  don't  care,  and  those  who  don't 
understand,  don't  matter  ' —  so  there  you  are  —  one's  left 
all  alone." 

"  I'm  sure  you  ain't  —  more's  Sabina.  She's  got  lots 
of  friends,  and  you've  got  your  dear  wife  and  children," 
said  Nelly. 

"  I  have ;  but  the  mind  sometimes  takes  a  flight  above 
one's  family.  It's  summed  up  in  a  word:  there's  nothing 
so  damned  unpleasant  as  being  took  for  granted,  and 
that's  what's  the  matter  with  me." 

"  Not  in  your  home,  you  ain't,"  declared  Sarah.  "  No 
good,  sensible  wife  takes  her  husband  for  granted.  He's 
always  made  a  bit  of  a  fuss  over  under  his  own  roof." 

"  That's  true ;  but  in  my  business  I  am.  To  see  people 
—  I'll  name  no  names  —  to  see  other  people  purred  over, 
and  then  to  find  your  own  craft  treated  as  just  a  common- 
place of  Nature,  no  more  wonderful  than  the  leaves  on  a 
bush  —  beastly,  I  call  it." 

Mr.  Legg  had  joined  them  and  he  admitted  the  force  of 
the  argument. 

"  We're  very  inclined  to  put  our  own  job  higher  in  the 
order  of  the  universe  than  will  other  people,"  he  said; 
"  and  better  men  than  you  have  hungered  for  a  bit  of 
notice  and  a  pat  on  the  back  and  never  won  it.  But  time 
covers  that  trouble.  I  grant,  all  the  same,  that  it's  a  bit 
galling  when  we  find  the  world  turns  a  cold  shoulder  to 
our  best." 

"  It's  a  human  weakness,  Nicholas,  to  want  to  be  pat- 
ted," said  Nelly,  and  her  husband  agreed. 

"  It  is.  We  share  it  with  dogs,"  he  declared.  "  But 
the  world  in  general  is  too  busy  to  pat  us.  I  remember 
in  my  green  youth  being  very  proud  of  myself  once  and 
pointing  to  a  lot  of  pewter  in  a  tub,  that  I'd  worked  up 


CRITICISM  413 

till  it  looked  like  silver;  and  I  took  some  credit,  and  an 
old  man  in  the  bar  said  that  scouring  pots  was  nothing 
more  than  scouring  pots,  and  that  any  other  honest  fool 
could  have  done  them  just  as  well  as  me." 

"  That's  all  right  and  I  don't  pretend  my  work  on  the 
lathe  is  a  national  asset,  and  I  don't  pretend  I  ought  to 
have  a  statue  for  doing  it,"  answered  Nicholas  ;  "  but  what 
I  do  say  is  that  I  am  greater  than  my  lathe  and  ought  to 
get  more  attention  according.  I  am  a  man  and  not  a 
cog-wheel,  and  when  Ironsyde  puts  cog-wheels  above  men 
and  gives  a  dumb  machine  greater  praise  than  the  mechanic 
who  works  it  —  then  it's  wrong  and  I  don't  like  it." 

"  He  can't  make  any  such  mistake  as  that,"  argued 
Job.  "  It's  rumoured  he's  going  to  stand  for  Parliament 
at  the  next  General  Election,  so  his  business  is  with  men, 
not  machines,  and  he'll  very  soon  find  all  about  the  human 
side  of  politics." 

"  He'll  be  human  enough  till  he  gets  in.  They  always 
are.  They'll  stoop  to  anything  till  they're  elected,"  said 
Mrs.  Legg,  "  but  once  there,  the  case  is  often  altered  with 
'em." 

"  I  want  to  be  recognised  as  a  man,"  continued  Roberts, 
"  and  Ironsyde  don't  do  it.  He  isn't  the  only  human  being 
with  a  soul  and  a  future.  And  now,  if  he's  for  Parliament, 
I  dare  say  he'll  become  more  indifferent  than  ever.  He 
may  be  a  machine  himself,  with  no  feelings  beyond  work; 
but  other  people  are  built  different." 

"  A  man  like  him  ought  to  try  and  do  the  things  him- 
self," suggested  Sarah.  "  If  employers  had  to  put  in  a 
day  laying  the  stricks  on  the  spreadboard,  or  turning  the 
rollers  on  the  lathe,  or  hackling,  or  spinning,  they'd  very 
soon  get  a  respect  for  what  the  workers  do.  In  fact,  if 
labour  had  its  way,  it  ought  to  make  capital  taste  what 
labour  means,  and  get  out  of  bed  when  labour  gets  out,  and 
do  what  labour  does,  and  eat  what  labour  eats.  Then 
capital  would  begin  to  know  it's  born." 

"  It  never  will  happen,"  persisted  Nicholas.     "  Nothing 


414  THE  SPINNERS 

opens  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  or  makes  the  man  who  can  buy 
oysters,  eat  winkles.  The  gulf  is  fixed  between  us  and  it 
won't  be  crossed.  If  he  goes  into  Parliament,  or  stops 
out,  he'll  be  himself  still,  and  look  on  us  doubtfully  and 
wish  in  his  soul  that  we  were  made  of  copper  and  filled 
with  steam." 

"  A  master  must  follow  his  people  out  of  the  works  into 
their  homes  if  he's  worth  a  rap,"  declared  Job.  "  Your 
aunt  always  did  so  with  her  maidens,  and  I  do  so  with  the 
men.  And  it's  our  place  to  remember  that  men  and  women 
are  far  different  from  metal  and  steam.  You  can't  turn 
the  power  off  the  workers  and  think  they're  going  to  be  all 
right  till  you  turn  it  on  again.  They  go  on  all  the  time 
—  same  as  the  masters  and  mistresses  do.  They  sleep  and 
eat  and  rest;  they  want  their  bit  of  human  interest,  and 
bit  of  fun,  and  pinch  of  hope  to  salt  the  working  day. 
And  as  for  Raymond  Ironsyde,  I've  seen  his  career  un- 
folding since  he  was  a  boy  and  marked  him  in  bad  moments 
and  seen  his  weakness ;  which  secrets  were  safe  enough  with 
me,  for  I'd  always  a  great  feeling  for  the  young.  And  I 
say  that  he's  good  as  gold  at  heart  and  his  faults  only 
come  from  a  lack  of  power  to  put  himself  in  another  man's 
place.  He  could  never  look  very  much  farther  than  his 
own  place  in  the  world  and  the  road  that  led  to  it.  He 
did  wrong,  like  all  of  us,  and  his  faults  found  him  out; 
which  they  don't  always  do.  But  he's  the  sort  that  takes 
years  and  years  to  ripen.  He's  not  yet  at  his  best  you'll 
find ;  but  he's  a  learner,  and  he  may  learn  a  great  many 
useful  things  if  he  goes  into  Parliament  —  if  it's  only  what 
to  avoid." 

"  There's  one  thing  that  will  do  him  a  darned  sight 
more  good  than  going  into  Parliament,  and  that's  getting 
married,"  said  Sarah.  "  In  fact,  a  few  of  us,  that  can  see 
further  through  a  milestone  than  some  people,  believe  it's 
in  sight." 

"  Miss  Waldron,  of  course?  "  asked  Nelly. 

"  Yes  —  her.     And  when  that  happens,  she'll  make  of 


CRITICISM  415 

Mister  Ironsyde  a  much  more  understanding  man  than 
going  into  Parliament  will.  He's  fair  and  just  —  not  one 
of  us,  bar  Levi  Baggs,  ever  said  he  wasn't  that  —  but  she's 
more  —  she's  just  our  lady,  and  our  good  is  her  good,  and 
what  she's  done  for  us  would  fill  a  book ;  and  if  she  could 
work  on  him  to  look  at  us  through  her  eyes,  then  none  of 
us,  that  deserved  it,  as  we  all  do,  would  lose  our  good 
word." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Job?  "  asked  Mrs.  Legg. 

"  I  say  nothing  better  could  happen,"  he  answered. 
"  But  don't  feel  too  hopeful.  The  things  that  promise 
best  to  the  human  eye  ain't  the  things  that  Providence  very 
often  performs.  To  speak  in  a  religious  spirit  and  with- 
out feeling,  there's  no  doubt  that  Providence  does  take  a 
delight  in  turning  down  the  obvious  things  and  bringing 
us  up  against  the  doubtful  and  difficult  and  unexpected 
ones.  That's  why  there's  such  a  gulf  between  story  books 
and  real  life.  The  story  books  that  I  used  to  read  in  my 
youth,  always  turned  out  just  as  a  man  of  good  will  and 
good  heart  and  kindly  spirit  would  wish  them  to  do ;  but 
you'd  be  straining  civility  to  Providence  and  telling  a  lie 
if  you  pretended  real  life  does.  Therefore  I  say,  hope  it 
may  happen ;  but  don't  bet  on  it." 

Job  finished  his  tea  and  bustled  away. 

"  The  wisdom  of  the  man !  "  said  Nicholas.  "  He's  the 
most  comforting  person  I  know,  because  he  don't  pretend. 
There's  some  think  that  everything  that  happens  to  us  is 
our  own  fault,  and  they  drive  you  silly  with  their  bleat- 
ing. Job  knows  it  ain't  so." 

"  A  far-seeing  man,"  admitted  Nelly,  "  and  a  great 
reader  of  the  signs  of  the  times.  People  used  to  think  he 
was  a  simple  sort  —  God  forgive  me,  I  did  myself ;  but  I 
know  better  now.  All  through  that  business  with  poor 
Richard  Gurd,  Job  understood  our  characters  and  bided 
his  time  and  knew  that  the  crash  must  come  between  us. 
He's  told  me  since  that  he  never  really  feared  Gurd,  be- 
cause he  looked  ahead  and  felt  that  two  such  natures  as 


416  THE  SPINNERS 

mine  and  Richard's  were  never  meant  to  join  in  matrimony. 
Looking  back,  I  see  Job's  every  move  and  the  brain  be- 
hind it.  Talk  about  Parliament !  If  Bridport  was  to  send 
Legg  there,  they'd  be  sending  one  that's  ten  times  wiser 
than  Raymond  Ironsyde  —  and  ten  times  deeper.  In 
fact,  the  nation's  very  ill  served  by  most  that  go  there. 
They  are  the  showy,  rich,  noisy  sort,  who  want  to  bulk 
in  the  public  eye  without  working  for  it  —  ciphers  who  do 
what  they're  told,  and  don't  understand  the  inner  nature 
of  what  they're  doing  more  than  a  hoss  in  a  plough.  But 
men  like  Job,  though  not  so  noisy,  would  get  to  the  root, 
and  use  their  own  judgment,  and  rise  superior  to  party 
politics  and  the  pitiful  need  to  shout  with  your  side,  right 
or  wrong." 

"  Miss  Waldron  is  very  wishful  for  him  to  get  in,  and 
she  says  he's  got  good  ideas,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  If  so,  he  has  to  thank  her  for  them,"  added  Sarah. 

"  And  I  hope,"  continued  Nicholas,  "  that  if  he  does  get 
in,  he'll  be  suffered  to  make  a  speech,  and  his  words  will 
fall  stone  dead  on  the  ears  of  the  members,  and  his  schemes 
will  fail.  'Then  he'll  know  what  it  is  to  be  flouted  and  to 
see  his  best  feats  win  not  a  friendly  sign." 

"  Electors  are  a  lot  too  easy  going  in  my  opinion," 
said  Nelly.  "  I'm  old  enough  to  have  seen  their  foolish 
ways  in  my  time,  and  find,  over  and  over  again,  that  they 
are  mostly  gulls  to  be  took  with  words.  They  never  ask 
what  a  man's  record  is  and  turn  over  the  pages  of  his 
past.  They  never  trouble  about  what  he's  done,  or  how 
he's  made  his  money,  or  where  he  stands  in  public  report. 
It  isn't  what  he  has  done,  but  what  he's  going  to  do.  Yet 
you  can  better  judge  of  a  man  from  his  past  than  his 
promises,  and  measure,  in  the  light  of  his  record,  whether 
he's  going  to  the  House  of  Commons  for  patriotic,  decent 
reasons,  or  for  mean  ones.  And  never  you  vote  for  a 
lawyer,  Nicholas  Roberts.  'Tis  a  golden  rule  with  Job 
that  never,  under  any  manner  of  circumstances,  will  he 
help  to  get  a  lawyer  into  Parliament.  They  stand  in  the 


CRITICISM  417 

way  of  all  progress  but  their  own;  they  suck  our  blood  in 
every  affair  of  life;  they  baffle  all  honest  thinking  with 
their  cunning,  and  look  at  right  and  wrong  only  from  the 
point  of  expediency.  Job  says  there  ought  to  be  a  law 
against  lawyers  going  in  at  all.  But  catch  them  making 
it!  In  fact,  we're  in  their  clutches  more  than  the  fly  in 
the  web,  because  they  make  the  laws ;  and  they'll  never 
make  any  laws  to  limit  their  own  powers  over  us,  though 
always  quick  enough  to  increase  them.  Job  says  that  the 
only  bright  side  to  a  revolution  would  be  that  the  law  and 
the  lawyers  would  be  swept  into  the  street  orderly  bin 
together.  Then  we'd  start  clean  and  free,  and  try  to  keep 
clean  and  free." 

Upon  this  subject  Mrs.  Legg  always  found  plenty  to 
say.  Indeed  she  continued  to  open  her  mind  till  they  grew 
weary. 

"  We  must  be  moving  if  we're  going  to  church,"  said 
Sarah.  "  I  think  we'd  better  go  and  pick  up  a  bit  of 
charity  to  our  neighbour  —  Sunday  and  all." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    OFFER    OF    MARRIAGE 

RAYMOND  met  Estelle  on  his  way  from  the  works  and  to- 
gether they  walked  home.  Here  and  there  in  the  cottage 
doorways  sat  women  braiding.  Among  them  was  Sally 
Groves  —  now  grown  too  old  and  slow  to  tend  the  '  Card  ' 
—  and  accident  willed  that  she  should  make  an  opening 
for  thoughts  that  now  filled  Ironsyde's  mind.  They 
stopped,  for  Sally  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  both,  and 
Estelle  valued  the  big  woman  for  her  resolute  character 
and  shrewd  sense.  Now  Sally,  on  strength  of  long-stand- 
ing friendship,  grew  personal.  It  was  an  ancient  joke  to 
chaff  Miss  Groves  about  marriage,  but  to-day,  when  Ray- 
mond asked  if  the  net  she  made  was  to  catch  a  husband, 
Sally  retorted  with  spirit. 

"  All  very  fine  for  you  two  to  be  poking  fun  at  me,"  she 
said.  "  But  what  about  you?  It's  time  you  made  up 
your  minds  I'm  sure,  for  everybody  knows  you're  in  love 
with  each  other  —  though  you  don't  yourselves  seem- 
ingly.'; 

"  Give  us  a  lead,  Sally,"  suggested  Raymond;  but  she 
shook  her  head. 

'  You're  old  enough  to  know  your  own  business,"  she 
answered ;  "  but  don't  you  go  lecturing  other  people  about 
matrimony  while  you're  a  bachelor  yourself  —  else  you'll 
get  the  worst  of  it  —  as  you  have  now." 

They  left  her  and  laughed  together. 

'  Yet  I've  heard  you  say  she  was  the  most  sensible 
woman  that  ever  worked  in  the  mills,"  argued  Raymond. 

Estelle  made  no  direct  reply,  but  spoke  of  Sally  in  the 

418 


THE  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE      419 

past  at  one  of  her  parties,  when  the  staff  took  holiday 
and  spent  a  day  at  Weymouth. 

Their  conversation  faded  before  they  reached  North 
Hill  House,  and  then,  as  they  entered  the  drive,  Raymond 
reminded  Estelle  of  a  time  long  vanished  and  an  expedition 
taken  when  she  was  a  child. 

"  Talking  of  good  things,  d'you  remember  our  walk  to 
Chilcombe  in  the  year  one?  Or,  to  be  more  exact,  when 
you  were  in  short  frocks." 

"  I  remember  well  enough.  How  my  chatter  must  have 
bored  you." 

"  You  never  bored  me  in  your  life,  Chicky.  In  fact, 
you  always  seem  to  have  been  a  part  of  my  life  since  I 
began  to  live.  That  event  happened  soon  after  our  walk, 
if  I  remember  rightly.  You  really  seem  as  much  a  part 
of  my  life  as  my  right  hand,  Estelle." 

"  Well,  your  right  hand  can't  bore  you,  certainly." 

"  Some  of  the  things  that  it  has  done  have  bored  me. 
But  let's  go  to  Chilcombe  again  —  not  in  the  car  —  but 
just  tramp  it  as  we  did  before.  How  often  have  you  been 
there  since  we  went  ?  " 

She  considered. 

"  Twice,  I  think.  My  friends  there  left  ten  years  ago 
and  my  girl  friend  died.  I  haven't  been  there  since  I  grew 
up."  ' 

"  Well,  come  this  afternoon." 

"  It's  going  to  rain,  Ray." 

"  Since  when  did  rain  frighten  you?  " 

"  I'd  love  to  come." 

"  A  walk  will  do  me  good,"  he  said.  "  I'm  getting  jolly 
lazy." 

"  So  father  thinks.  He  hates  motors  —  says  they  are 
going  to  make  the  next  generation  flabby  and  good-for- 
nothing." 

They  started  presently  under  low  grey  clouds,  but  the 
sky  was  not  grey  for  them  and  the  weather  of  their  minds 
made  them  forget  the  poor  light  and  sad  south-west  wind 


420  THE  SPINNERS 

laden  with  rain.  It  held  off  until  they  had  reached  Chil- 
combe  chapel,  entered  the  little  place  of  prayer  and  stood 
together  before  the  ancient  reredos.  The  golden-brown 
wood  made  a  patch  of  brightness  in  the  little  building. 
They  were  looking  at  it  and  recalling  Estelle's  description 
of  it  in  the  past,  when  the  storm  broke  and  the  rain  beat 
on  the  white  glass  in  the  windows  above  them. 

"  How  tiny  it's  all  grown,"  said  Estelle.  "  Surely 
everything  has  shrunk  ?  " 

They  had  the  chapel  to  themselves  and,  sitting  beside 
her  in  a  pew,  Raymond  asked  her  to  marry  him.  Thunder 
had  wakened  in  the  sky,  and  the  glare  of  lightning  touched 
their  faces  now  and  then.  But  they  only  remembered  that 
afterwards. 

"  Sally  Groves  was  no  more  than  half  right,"  he  said, 
"  so  her  fame  for  wisdom  is  shaken.  She  told  us  we  didn't 
know  we  loved  one  another,  Estelle.  But  I  know  I  love 
you  well  enough,  and  I've  been  shaking  in  my  shoes  to  tell 
you  so  for  months  and  months.  I  knew  I  was  getting  too 
old  every  minute  and  yet  couldn't  say  the  word.  But  I 
must  say  it  now  at  any  cost.  Chicky,  I  love  you  — 
dearly,  dearly  I  love  you  —  because  I'm  calm  and  steady, 
that  doesn't  mean  I'm  not  in  a  blaze  inside.  I  never 
thought  of  it  even  while  you  were  growing  up.  But  a 
time  came  when  I  did  begin  to  think  of  it  like  the  deuce; 
and  when  once  I  did,  the  thought  towered  up  like  the  ef- 
f reet  let  out  of  the  bottle  —  that  story  you  loved  when 
you  were  small.  But  my  only  fear  and  dread  is  that 
you've  always  been  accustomed  to  think  of  me  as  so  much 
older  than  you  are.  If  you  once  get  an  idea  into  your 
head  about  a  person's  age,  you  can't  get  it  out  again. 
At  least,  I  can't;  so  I'm  afraid  you'll  regard  me  as  quite 
out  of  the  question  for  a  husband.  If  that's  so,  I'll  begin 
over  again." 

Her  eyes  were  round  and  her  mouth  a  little  open.  She 
did  not  blink  when  the  lightning  flashed. 


THE  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE      421 

"  But  —  but "  she  said. 

"  If  I'm  not  too  old,  there  are  no  '  buts  '  left,"  he  de- 
clared firmly.  "  Ten  years  is  no  great  matter  after  all, 
and  from  the  point  of  view  of  brains,  I'm  an  infant  beside 
you.  Then  say  '  yes,'  my  darling  —  say  '  yes  '  to  me." 

"  I  wonder  —  I  wonder,  Ray?  " 

"  Haven't  you  ever  guessed  what  I  felt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  a  vague  way.  At  least  I  knew  there  was  some- 
thing growing  up  between  us." 

"  It  was  love,  my  beautiful  dear." 

She  smiled  at  him  doubtfully.  The  colour  had  come 
back  to  her  face,  but  she  did  not  respond  when  he  lifted  his 
arms  to  her. 

"Are  you  sure  —  can  you  be  sure,  Ray?  It's  so  dif- 
ferent,—  so  shattering.  It  seems  to  smash  up  all  the  past 
into  little  bits  and  begin  the  world  all  over  again  —  for 
you  and  me.  It's  such  a  near  thing.  I've  seen  the  mar- 
ried people  and  wondered  about  it.  You  might  get  so 
weary  of  always  having  me  so  close." 

"  I  want  you  close  —  closer  and  closer.  I  want  you  as 
the  best  part  of  myself  —  to  make  me  happier  first  and, 
because  happier,  more  useful  in  the  world.  I  want  you  at 
the  helm  of  my  life  —  to  steer  me,  Chicky.  What  couldn't 
we  do  together !  It's  selfish  —  it's  one-sided,  I  know  that. 
I  get  everything  —  you  only  get  me.  But  I'll  try  and 
rise  to  the  occasion.  I  worship  you,  and  no  woman  ever 
had  a  more  devout  worshipper.  I  feel  that  your  father 
wouldn't  be  very  mad  with  me.  But  it's  for  you  to  decide, 
nothing  else  matters  either  way." 

"  I  love  to  think  you  care  for  me  so  much,"  she  said. 
"  And  I  care  for  you,  Ray,  and  have  cared  for  you  — 
more  than  either  of  us  know.  Yes,  I  have.  Sally  Groves 
knew  somehow.  I  should  like  to  say  '  yes  '  this  moment ; 
but  I  can't.  I  know  I  shall  say  it  presently ;  but  I'm  not 
going  to  say  it  till  I've  thought  a  great  many  thoughts 
and  looked  into  the  future  and  considered  all  this  means  — 


422  THE  SPINNERS 

for  you  as  well  as  for  me.  It's  life  or  death  really,  for 
both  of  us,  and  the  more  certain  sure  we  are  before,  the 
happier  we  should  be  afterwards,  I  expect." 

"  I'm  sure  enough,  Estelle.     I've  been  sure  enough  for 
many  a  long  day.     I  know  the  very  hour  I  began  to  be 


"  I  think  I  am  too ;  but  I  can't  say  '  yes  '  and  mean 
6  yes  '  for  the  present.  I've  got  to  thresh  out  a  lot  of 
things.  I  dare  say  they'd  be  absurd  to  you ;  but  they're 
not  to  me." 

«  Can  I  help  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  You  can,  I  expect.  I  shall  come  to 
you  again  to  throw  light  on  the  difficult  points." 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  take?  " 

"How  can  I  tell?  But  I  can  all  the  same,  I'm  not 
going  to  take  long." 

"  Say  you  love  me  —  do  say  that." 

"  I  should  have  told  you  if  I  didn't." 

"  That's  all  right,  but  not  so  blessed  as  hearing  you  say 
with  your  own  lips  you  do.  Say  it  —  say  it,  Chicky.  I 
won't  take  advantage  of  it.  I  only  want  to  hear  it.  Then 
I'll  leave  you  in  peace  to  think  your  thoughts." 

"  I  do  love  you,"  she  said  gently  and  steadily.  "  It  can 
be  nothing  smaller  than  that.  You  are  a  very  great  part 
of  my  life  —  the  greatest.  I  know  that,  because  when  you 
go  away  life  is  at  evening,  and  when  you  come  back  again 
life  is  at  morning.  Let  me  have  a  little  time,  Ray  —  only 
a  very  little.  Then  I'll  decide." 

"  I  hope  your  wisdom  will  let  you  follow  your  will,  then, 
and  not  forbid  the  banns." 

"  You  mustn't  think  it  cold  and  horrid  of  me." 

"  You  couldn't  be  cold  and  horrid,  my  sweet  Estelle. 
We're  neither  of  us  capable  of  being  cold,  or  horrid.  We 
are  not  babies.  I  don't  blame  you  a  bit  for  wanting  to 
think  about  it.  I  only  blame  myself.  If  I  was  all  I  might 
have  been,  you  wouldn't  want  to  think  about  it." 

This  challenge  shook  her,  but  did  not  change  her. 


THE  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE      423 

"  Nobody's  all  they  might  be,  Ray ;  but  many  people 
are  a  great  deal  more  than  they  might  be.  That's  what 
makes  you  love  people  best,  I  think  —  to  see  how 
brave  and  patient  and  splendid  men  and  women  can  be. 
Life's  so  difficult  even  for  the  luckiest  of  us ;  but  it  isn't 
the  luckiest  who  are  the  pluckiest  generally  —  is  it  ?  I've 
had  such  a  lot  more  than  my  share  of  luck  already.  So 
have  you  —  at  least  people  think  so.  But  nobody  knows 
one's  luck  really  except  oneself." 

"  It's  the  things  that  are  going  to  happen  will  make 
our  good  luck,"  he  said.  "  You'll  find  men  are  seldom  sat- 
isfied with  the  past,  whatever  women  may  be.  God  knows 
I'm'not." 

"  You  were  always  one  of  my  two  heroes  when  I  was 
a  child ;  and  father  was  the  other.  He  is  still  my  hero  — 
and  so  are  you,  Ray." 

"  A  pretty  poor  hero.  I  wouldn't  pretend  that  to  my 
dog.  I  only  claim  to  have  something  worth  while  in  me 
that  you  might  bring  out  —  raw  material  for  you  to  turn 
into  the  finished  article." 

She  laughed  to  hear  this. 

"  Come  —  come  —  you're  not  as  modest  as  all  that. 
You're  much  too  clever  even  to  pretend  any  such  thing. 
Women  don't  turn  strong  men  into  finished  articles.  At 
best,  perhaps,  they  can  only  decorate  a  little  of  the  out- 
side." 

"  You  laugh,"  he  answered,  "  but  you  know  better.  If 
you  love  me,  be  ambitious  for  me.  That's  the  most  help- 
ful love  a  woman  can  give  a  man  —  to  see  his  capabilities 
better  than  he  can,  and  fire  him  on  the  best  and  biggest  he 
can  do,  and  help  him  to  grasp  his  opportunities." 

"  So  it  is." 

"  You've  got  to  decide  whether  it's  worth  while  marry- 
ing me,  Chicky.  You  do  love  me,  as  I  love  you  —  because 
you  can't  help  it.  But  you  can  help  marrying  me. 
You've  got  to  think  of  your  own  show  as  well  as  mine. 
I  quite  understand  that.  You  must  be  yourself  and  make 


424  THE  SPINNERS 

your  own  mark,  and  take  advantage  of  all  the  big  new 
chances  offered  to  the  rising  generation  of  women.  I  love 
you  a  great  deal  too  much  to  want  to  lessen  you,  or  drift 
you  into  a  back-water.  It's  just  a  question  whether  my 
work,  and  the  Mill,  and  so  on,  give  you  the  chance  you 
want  —  if,  working  together,  we  can  each  help  on  the 
other.  You  could  certainly  help  me  hugely  and  you  know 
it ;  but  whether  I  could  help  you  —  that's  what  you've  got 
to  think  about  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  is,  Ray." 

"  Your  eyes  say  '  yes  '  already,  and  they're  terrible  true 
eyes." 

But  she  only  lowered  them  and  neither  spoke  any  more 
for  a  little  while.  The  worst  of  the  storm  had  passed,  and 
its  riot  and  splash  gave  place  to  a  fine  drizzle  as  the  night 
began  to  close  in. 

They  started  for  home  and,  both  content  to  think  their 
own  thoughts,  trudged  side  by  side.  For  Raymond's  part, 
he  knew  the  woman  too  well  to  suffer  any  doubt  of  the 
issue  and  he  was  happy.  For  he  felt  that  she  was  quietly 
happy  too,  and  if  instincts  had  brought  grave  doubts,  or 
prompted  her  to  deny  him,  she  would  not  have  been  happy. 

Estelle  did  not  miss  the  romance  from  his  offer  of  mar- 
riage. She  had  dreamed  of  man's  love  in  her  poetry- 
reading  days,  but  under  the  new  phase  and  the  practical 
bent,  developed  by  a  general  enthusiasm  for  her  kind,  per- 
sonal emotions  were  not  paramount.  There  could  be  but 
little  sex  in  her  affection  for  Raymond:  she  had  lived  too 
near  him  for  that.  Indeed,  she  had  grown  up  beside  him, 
and  the  days  before  he  came  to  dwell  at  North  Hill  seemed 
vague  and  misty.  Thus  his  challenge  came  as  an  experi- 
ence both  less  and  greater  than  love.  It  was  less,  in  that 
no  such  challenge  can  be  so  urgent  and  so  mighty  as  the 
call  of  hungry  hearts  to  each  other;  it  was  greater,  be- 
cause the  interests  involved  were  built  on  abiding  princi- 
ples. They  arrested  her  intellectual  ambitions  and 
pointed  to  a  sphere  of  usefulness  beyond  her  unaided 


THE  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE      425 

power.  What  must  have  made  his  prosaic  offer  flat  in 
the  ear  of  an  amorous  woman,  edged  it  for  her.  He  had 
dwelt  on  the  aspect  of  their  union  that  was  likely  most  to 
attract  her. 

There  was  a  pure  personal  side  where  love  came  in  and 
made  her  heart  beat  warmly  enough ;  but,  higher  than  that, 
she  saw  herself  of  living  value  to  Raymond  and  helping 
him  just  where  he  stood  most  in  need  of  help.  She  be- 
lieved that  they  might  well  prove  the  complement  of  each 
other  in  those  duties,  disciplines,  and  obligations  to  which 
life  had  called  them. 

That  night  she  went  closely,  searchingly  over  old 
ground  again  from  the  new  point  of  vision.  What  had 
always  been  interesting  to  her,  became  now  vital,  since 
these  characteristics  belonged  to  the  man  who  wanted  to 
wed  her.  She  tried  to  be  remorseless  and  cruel  that  she 
might  be  kind.  But  the  palette  of  thought  was  only  set 
with  pleasant  colours.  She  had  been  intellectually  in  love 
with  him  for  a  long  time,  and  he  had  offered  problems 
which  made  her  love  him  for  the  immense  interest  they 
gave  her.  Now  came  additional  stimulus  in  the  knowledge 
that  he  loved  her  well  enough  to  share  his  life,  his  hopes, 
and  his  ambitions  with  her. 

She  believed  they  might  be  wedded  in  very  earnest.  He 
was  masterful  and  possessed  self-assurance ;  but  what  man 
can  lead  and  control  without  these  qualities?  His  self- 
assurance  was  less  than  his  self-control,  and  his  instinct 
for  self-assertion  had  nearly  always  been  counted  by  a 
kind  heart.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  never  known 
a  man  who  balanced  reason  and  feeling  more  judicially,  or 
better  preserved  a  mean  between  them. 

She  had  found  that  men  could  differentiate  in  a  way 
beyond  woman's  power  and  be  unsociable  if  their  duty  de- 
manded it.  But  to  be  unsociable  is  not  to  be  unsocial. 
Raymond  took  long  views,  and  if  his  old,  genial  and  jolly 
attitude  to  life  was  a  thing  of  the  past,  there  had  been 
substituted  for  it  a  wiser  understanding  and  saner  recog- 


426  THE  SPINNERS 

nition  of  the  useful  and  useless.  Men  did  take  longer 
views  than  women  —  so  Estelle  decided :  and  there  Ray- 
mond would  help  her;  but  the  all-important  matter  that 
night  was  to  satisfy  herself  how  much  she  could  help  him. 
In  this  reverie  she  found  such  warmth  and  light  as  set  her 
glowing  before  dawn,  for  she  built  up  the  spiritual  pic- 
ture of  Raymond,  came  very  close  to  its  ultimate  realities, 
quickened  by  the  new  inspiration,  and  found  that  it  should 
be  well  within  her  power  to  serve  him  generously.  She 
took  no  credit  to  herself,  but  recognized  a  happy  accident 
of  character. 

There  were  weak  spots  in  all  masculine  armour,  that 
only  a  woman  could  make  strong,  and  by  a  good  chance 
she  felt  that  her  particular  womanhood  might  serve  this 
essential  turn  for  Raymond's  manhood.  To  strengthen 
her  own  man's  weak  spots  —  surely  that  was  the  crown 
and  completion  of  any  wedded  life  for  a  woman.  To 
check,  to  supplement,  to  enrich:  that  he  would  surely  do 
for  her ;  and  she  hoped  to  deal  as  faithfully  with  him. 

She  was  not  clear-sighted  here,  for  love,  if  it  be  love  at 
all,  must  bring  the  rosy  veil  with  it  and  dim  the  seeing  of 
the  brightest  eyes.  While  the  fact  that  she  had  grown  up 
with  Raymond  made  her  view  clear  enough  in  some  direc- 
tions, in  others  it  served,  of  course,  to  dim  judgment.  She 
credited  him  with  greater  intellect  than  he  possessed,  and 
dreamed  that  higher  achievements  were  in  his  power  than 
was  the  truth.  But  there  existed  a  mean,  below  her  dream 
yet  above  his  present  ambition,  that  it  was  certainly  pos- 
sible with  her  incentive  he  might  attain.  She  might  make 
him  more  sympathetic  and  so  more  synthetic  also,  and 
show  him  how  his  own  industry  embraced  industrial  prob- 
lems at  large  —  how  it  could  not  be  taken  by  itself,  but 
must  hold  its  place  only  by  favour  of  its  progress,  and 
command  respect  only  as  it  represented  the  worthiest  rela- 
tion between  capital  and  labour.  Thus,  from  the  personal 
interest  of  his  work,  she  would  lift  him  to  measure  the 
world-wide  needs  of  all  workers.  And  then,  in  time  to 


THE  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE      427 

come,  he  would  forget  the  personal  before  the  more  splen- 
did demands  of  the  universal.  The  trend  of  machinery 
was  towards  tyranny ;  he  must  never  lose  sight  of  that,  or 
let  the  material  threaten  the  spiritual.  Private  life,  as  well 
as  public  life,  was  open  to  the  tyranny  of  the  machine; 
and  there,  too,  it  would  be  her  joyful  privilege  to  fight  be- 
side him  for  added  beauty,  added  liberty,  not  only  in  their 
own  home,  but  all  homes  wherein  they  had  power  to  increase 
comfort  and  therefore  happiness.  The  sensitiveness  of 
women  should  be  linked  to  the  driving  force  of  men,  as  the 
safety  valve  to  the  engine.  Thus,  in  a  simile  surely  destined 
to  delight  him,  she  summed  her  intentions  and  desires. 

She  had  often  wondered  what  must  be  essential  to  the 
fullest  employment  of  her  energies  and  the  best  and  purest 
use  of  her  thinking;  and  now  she  saw  that  marriage  an- 
swered the  question  —  not  marriage  in  the  abstract,  but 
just  marriage  with  this  man.  He,  of  all  she  had  known, 
was  the  one  with  whom  she  felt  best  endowed  to  mingle 
and  merge,  so  that  their  united  forces  should  be  poured 
to  help  the  world  and  water  with  increase  the  modest 
territory  through  which  they  must  flow. 

She  turned  to  go  to  sleep  at  last,  yet  dearly  longed  to 
tell  Raymond  and  amaze  her  father  with  the  great  tidings. 

An  impulse  prompted  her  to  leave  her  lover  not  a  mo- 
ment more  in  doubt.  She  rose,  therefore,  and  descended 
to  his  room,  which  opened  beside  his  private  study  on  the 
ground  floor.  The  hour  was  nearly  four  on  an  autumn 
morning.  She  listened,  heard  him  move  restlessly  and 
knew  that  he  did  not  sleep.  He  struck  a  match  and  lighted 
a  cigarette,  for  he  often  smoked  at  night. 

Then  she  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Who  the  devil's  that?  "  he  shouted. 

"  I,"  she  said,  opening  the  door  an  inch  and  talking 
softly.  "  Stop  where  you  are  and  stop  worrying  and  go 
to  sleep.  I'm  going  to  marry  you,  Ray,  and  I'm  happier 
than  ever  I  was  before  in  all  my  life." 

Then  she  shut  the  door  and  fled  away. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SABINA    AND    ABEL, 

Now  was  Raymond  Ironsyde  too  busy  to  think  any 
thought  but  one,  and  though  distractions  crowded  down 
on  the  hour,  he  set  them  aside  so  far  as  it  was  possible. 
His  betrothal  very  completely  dominated  his  life  and  the 
new  relation  banished  the  old  attitude  between  him  and 
Estelle.  The  commonplace  existence,  as  of  sister  and 
brother,  seemed  to  perish  suddenly,  and  in  its  place,  as  a 
butterfly  from  a  chrysalis,  there  reigned  the  emotional 
days  of  prelude  to  marriage.  The  mere  force  of  the  situ- 
ation inspired  them  and  they  grew  as  loverly  as  any  boy 
and  girl.  It  was  no  make-believe  that  led  them  to  follow 
the  immemorial  way  and  glory  only  in  the  companionship 
of  each  other ;  they  felt  the  desire,  and  love  that  had  awak- 
ened so  tardily  and  moved  in  a  manner  so  desultory,  seemed 
concerned  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 

Arthur  Waldron  was  not  so  greatly  astonished  as  they 
expected,  and  whatever  may  have  been  his  private  hopes 
and  desires  for  his  daughter,  he  never  uttered  them,  but 
seeing  her  happiness,  echoed  it. 

"  No  better  thing  could  have  happened  from  my  point 
of  view,"  he  declared,  "  for  if  she'd  married  anybody  else 
in  the  world,  I  should  have  been  called  to  say  '  good-bye  ' 
to  her.  Since  she's  chosen  you,  there's  no  necessity  for 
me  to  do  so.  I  hope  you're  going  on  living  at  North  Hill, 
and  I  trust  you're  going  to  let  me  do  the  same.  Of  course, 
it  would  be  an  impossible  arrangement  if  you  were  dealing 
with  anybody  but  me ;  but  since  we  are  what  we  are  in 
spirit  and  temper  and  understanding,  I  claim  that  I  may 
stop.  The  only  difference  I  can  see  is  this :  that  whereas 

428 


SABINA  AND  ABEL  429 

at  present,  when  we  dine,  you  sit  between  Estelle  and  me, 
in  future  I  shall  sit  between  Estelle  and  you." 

"  Not  even  that,"  vowed  the  lover.  "  Why  shouldn't  I 
go  on  sitting  between  you?  " 

"  No  —  you'll  be  the  head  of  the  house  in  future." 

"  The  charm  of  this  house  is  that  there's  no  head  to  it," 
said  Estelle,  "  and  Raymond  isn't  going  to  usurp  any  such 
position  just  because  he  means  to  marry  me." 

But  distractions  broke  in  upon  their  happiness.  Ernest 
Churchouse  fell  grievously  ill  and  lacked  strength  to  fight 
disease ;  while  there  came  news  from  Knapp  that  the 
farmer  was  tired  of  Abel  and  wished  him  away. 

For  their  old  friend  none  could  prolong  his  life;  in  the 
case  of  the  boy,  Raymond  decided  that  Sabina  had  better 
see  him  and  go  primed  with  a  definite  offer.  Abel's  father 
did  not  anticipate  much  more  trouble  in  that  quarter. 
He  guessed  that  the  lad,  now  in  his  seventeenth  year,  was 
sufficiently  weary  of  the  land  and  would  be  glad  to  take  up 
engineering.  He  felt  confident  that  Sabina  must  find  him 
changed  for  the  better,  prepared  for  his  career  and  willing 
to  enter  upon  it  without  greater  waste  of  time.  He  in- 
vited the  boy's  mother  to  learn  if  he  felt  more  friendly 
to  him,  and  hoped  that  Abel  had  now  revealed  a  frame  of 
mind  and  a  power  of  reasoning,  that  would  serve  to  solve 
the  problem  of  his  career,  and  finally  abolish  his  animosity 
to  his  father. 

Sabina  went  to  see  her  son  and  heard  the  farmer  first. 
He  was  not  unfriendly,  but  declared  Abel  a  responsibility 
he  no  longer  desired  to  incur. 

"  He's  just  at  a  tricky  age  —  and  he's  shifty  and  secret 
—  unlike  other  lads.  You  never  know  what's  going  on 
in  his  mind,  and  he  never  laughs,  or  takes  pleasure  in 
things.  He's  too  difficult  for  me,  and  my  wife  says  she's 
frightened  of  him.  As  to  work,  he  does  it,  but  you  always 
feel  he's  got  no  love  for  it.  And  I  know  he  means  to  bolt 
any  day.  I've  marked  signs ;  so  it  will  be  better  for  you 
people  to  take  the  first  step." 


430  THE  SPINNERS 

The  farmer's  wife  spoke  to  similar  purpose  and  added 
information  that  made  Sabina  more  than  uneasy. 

"  It's  about  this  friend  of  his,  Miss  Waldron,  that  came 
to  see  him  backalong,"  she  explained.  "  He'd  talk  pretty 
free  about  her  sometimes  and  was  very  proud  of  it  when  he 
got  a  letter  now  and  again.  But  since  she's  wrote  and 
told  him  she's  going  to  be  married,  he's  turned  a  gloomier 
character  than  ever.  He  don't  like  the  thought  of  it  and 
it  makes  him  dark.  'Tis  almost  as  if  he'd  been  in  love 
with  the  lady.  You  do  hear  of  young  boys  falling  in  love 
before  their  time  like  that." 

Sabina  was  on  the  point  of  explaining,  but  did  not  do 
so.  Her  first  care  was  to  see  Abel  and  learn  the  truth  of 
this  report.  Perhaps  she  felt  not  wholly  sorry  that  he 
resented  this  conclusion.  Not  a  few  had  spoken  of  Iron- 
syde's  marriage  before  her:  it  was  the  gossip  of  Bride- 
town  ;  but  none  appeared  to  consider  how  it  must  affect 
her,  or  sympathise  with  her  emotions  on  the  subject. 
What  these  emotions  were,  or  whither  they  tended,  she 
hardly  knew  herself.  Unowned  even  to  her  innermost 
heart,  a  sort  of  dim  hope  had  not  quite  died,  that  he 
might,  after  all,  come  back  to  her.  She  blushed  at  the 
absurdity  of  the  idea  now,  but  it  had  struck  in  her  sub- 
consciously and  never  wholly  vanished.  Before  the  en- 
gagement was  announced  she  had  altered  her  attitude  to 
Raymond  and  used  him  civilly  and  shared  his  desire  that 
Abel  should  be  won  over  by  his  father.  The  old  hatred 
at  receiving  anything  from  Ironsyde's  hands  no  longer  ex- 
isted. She  felt  indifferent  and,  before  her  own  approach- 
ing problems,  was  not  prepared  to  decline  the  offers  of 
help  that  she  knew  would  quickly  come  when  Ernest  Chur- 
chouse  died. 

She  intended  to  preach  patience  and  reason  in  the  ears 
of  Abel,  and  she  hoped  he  would  not  make  her  task  difficult ; 
but  now  it  was  clear  that  Estelle's  betrothal  had  troubled 
the  boy. 


SABINA  AND  ABEL  431 

She  saw  him  and  they  spoke  together  for  a  long  time; 
but  already  his  force  of  character  began  to  increase  be- 
yond his  mother's.  Despite  her  purpose  and  sense  of  the 
gravity  of  the  situation,  he  had  more  effect  upon  her  than 
she  had  upon  him.  Yet  her  arguments  were  rational  and 
his  were  not.  But  the  old,  fatal,  personal  element  of  tem- 
per crept  in  and,  during  her  speech  with  him,  Sabina  found 
fires  that  she  believed  long  quenched,  were  still  smouldering 
in  the  depths  of  memory.  The  boy  could  not  indeed  fan 
them  to  flame  again ;  but  the  result  of  his  attitude  served 
to  weaken  hers.  She  did  not  argue  with  conviction  after 
finding  his  temper.  By  some  evil  chance,  that  seemed 
more  like  art  than  accident,  he  struck  old  wounds,  and  she 
was  interested  and  agitated  to  find  that  now  he  knew  all 
there  was  to  be  known  of  the  past  and  its  exact  signifi- 
cance. The  dream  hidden  so  closely  in  her  heart:  that 
there  might  yet  be  a  reconciliation  —  the  dream  finally 
killed  when  she  perceived  that  Ironsyde  had  fallen  in  love 
with  Estelle  Waldron  —  was  no  dream  in  her  son's  mind. 
What  she  knew  was  impossible,  till  now  represented  no  im- 
possibility to  him.  He  actually  declared  it  as  a  thing 
which,  in  his  moral  outlook,  ought  to  be.  Only  so  could 
the  past  be  retrieved,  or  the  future  made  endurable.  But 
to  that  matter  they  did  not  immediately  come.  She  dined 
at  the  farmer's  table  with  Abel  and  three  men.  Then  he 
was  told  that  he  might  make  holiday  and  spend  the  after- 
noon with  his  mother  where  he  pleased.  He  took  her 
therefore  to  the  old  barrows  nigh  Knapp,  and  there  on  a 
stone  they  sat,  watched  the  sun  sink  over  distant  wood- 
lands and  talked  together  till  the  dusk  was  down. 

"  I  ought  never  to  have  trusted  her,"  he  said.  "  But 
I  did.  And,  if  I'd  thought  she  would  ever  have  married 
him,  I  wouldn't  have  trusted  her.  I  thought  she  was  the 
right  sort ;  but  if  she  was,  she  would  never  have  married  a 
man  who  had  sworn  to  marry  you." 

"  Good    gracious,    Abel !     Whatever    are    you    talking 


432  THE  SPINNERS 

about?"  she  asked,  concerned  to  find  the  matter  in  his 
mind. 

"  I'm  talking  about  things  that  happened,"  he  answered. 
"  I'm  not  a  child  now.  I'm  nearly  seventeen  and  older  than 
that,  for  I  overheard  two  of  the  men  say  so.  You  needn't 
tell  me  these  things ;  I  found  them  out  for  myself,  and  I 
hated  Raymond  Ironsyde  from  the  time  I  could  hate  any- 
body, because  the  honest  feeling  to  hate  him  was  in  me. 
And  nobody  has  the  right  to  marry  him  but  you,  and  he's 
got  no  right  to  marry  anybody  but  you.  But  he  doesn't 
know  the  meaning  of  justice,  and  she  is  not  fine,  or  brave, 
or  clever,  or  any  of  the  things  I  thought  she  was,  because 
she  wants  to  marry  him." 

His  mother  considered  this  speech. 

"  It's  no  good  vexing  yourself  about  the  past,"  she  said. 
"  You  and  me  have  got  to  look  to  the  future,  Abel,  and 
not  to  dwell  on  all  that  don't  make  the  future  any  easier. 
It's  difficult  enough,  but,  for  us,  the  luxury  of  pride  and 
hate  isn't  possible.  I  know  very  well  what  you  feel.  It 
all  went  through  me  like  fire  before  you  were  born  —  and 
after;  but  we've  got  to  go  on  living,  and  things  are  going 
to  change,  and  we  must  cut  our  coats  according  to  our 
cloth  —  you  and  me." 

"  What  does  that  mean?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  means  we're  not  independent.  There's  not  enough 
for  your  education  and  my  keep.  So  it's  got  to  be  him, 
or  one  other,  and  the  other  is  an  old  woman  —  his  aunt. 
But  it's  all  the  same  really,  and  he'll  see  that  it  comes  out 
of  his  pocket  in  the  end.  He's  all  powerful  and  we  must 
do  according.  Christianity's  a  very  convenient  thing  for 
the  likes  of  us.  It  teaches  that  the  meek  are  blessed  and 
the  weak  the  worthy  ones.  You  must  look  to  your  father 
if  you  want  to  succeed  in  the  world." 

"  Never,"  he  said.  "  He's  got  everything  else  in  the 
world,  but  he  shan't  have  me.  I  don't  care  much  about 
being  alive  at  best,  seeing  I  must  be  different  from  other 


SABINA  AND  ABEL  433 

people  all  my  life;  but  I'd  rather  die  twenty  times  than 
owe  anything  to  him.  He  knew  before  I  was  born  that  he 
was  going  to  wreck  my  life,  and  he  did  it,  and  he  wrecked 
yours,  and  his  marriage  with  any  other  woman  but  you  is 
a  lie  and  a  sham,  and  Estelle  knows  it  very  well.  Now  I 
hate  her  as  much  as  him,  and  I  hate  those  who  let  her 
marry  him,  and  I  hate  the  clergyman  that  will  do  it ;  and 
if  I  could  ruin  them  by  killing  myself  on  their  doorstep,  I 
would.  But  he  wouldn't  care  for  that.  If  I  was  to  do 
that,  it  would  just  suit  the  devil,  because  he'd  know  I'd 
gone  and  could  never  rise  up  against  him  any  more." 

She  made  a  half-hearted  attempt  to  distract  his 
thoughts.  She  began  to  argue  and,  as  usual,  ended  in 
bitterness. 

"  You  mustn't  talk  nonsense,  like  that.  He  means  well 
by  you,  and  you  mustn't  cut  off  your  nose  to  spite  your 
face.  You'll  find  plenty  of  people  to  take  his  side  and 
you  mustn't  only  listen  to  his  enemies.  There's  always 
wise  people  to  stand  up  for  young  men  and  excuse  them, 
though  not  many  to  stand  up  for  young  women." 

"  Let  them  stand  up  for  me  and  excuse  me,  then,"  he 
answered.  "  Let  them  explain  me  and  tell  me  why  I  should 
think  different,  and  why  I  should  take  his  filthy  money 
just  to  set  his  mind  at  rest.  What  has  he  done  for  me 
that  I  should  ease  him  and  do  as  he  pleases?  Is  it  out  of 
any  care  for  me  he'd  lift  me  up?  Not  likely.  It's  all  to 
deceive  the  people  and  make  them  say  he's  a  good  man. 
And  until  he  puts  you  right,  he's  not  a  good  man,  and  soon 
or  late  I'll  have  it  out  with  him.  God  blast  me  if  I  don't. 
But  I'll  revenge  myself  clean  on  him.  He  shan't  make  out 
to  the  world  that  he's  done  what  a  father  should  do  for 
a  son.  He's  my  natural  father  and  no  more,  and  he  never 
wanted  or  meant  to  be  more.  And  no  right  will  take  away 
that  wrong.  And  I'll  treat  him  as  other  natural  creatures 
treat  their  fathers." 

"  You  can't  do  that,"  she  said.  "  You're  a  human,  and 
you've  got  a  conscience  and  must  answer  to  it." 


434  THE  SPINNERS 

"  I  will  —  some  day.  I  know  what  my  conscience  says 
to  me.  My  conscience  tells  me  the  truth,  not  a  lot  of  lies 
like  yours  tells  you.  I  know  what's  right  and  I  know 
what's  justice.  I  gave  the  man  one  chance.  I  offered  to  go 
in  his  works  —  my  works  that  ought  to  be  some  day.  But 
that  didn't  suit  him.  I  must  always  knuckle  under  and 
bend  to  his  will.  But  never  —  never.  I'd  starve  first,  or 
throw  myself  into  the  sea.  He  don't  want  me  near  him 
for  people  to  point  to,  so  I  must  be  drove  out  of  Bride- 
town  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  if  he  chooses.  And  if  the 
damned  world  was  straight  and  honest  and  looked  after 
the  women  and  innocent  children,  'tis  him,  not  me,  would 
have  been  drove  out  of  Bridetown." 

He  spoke  with  amazing  bitterness  for  youth,  and  echoed 
much  that  he  had  heard,  as  well  as  what  he  had  thought. 
His  mother  felt  some  astonishment  to  find  how  his  mind 
had  enlarged,  and  some  fear,  also,  to  see  the  hopelessness 
of  the  position. 

Already  she  considered  in  secret  what  craft  might  be 
necessary  to  bring  him  to  a  more  reasonable  mind. 

"  You'll  have  to  think  of  me  as  well  as  yourself,"  she 
said.  "  Life's  hard  enough  without  you  making  it  so  much 
harder.  Two  things  will  happen  in  a  few  weeks  from  now 
and  nothing  can  stop  them.  First  you've  got  to  leave 
here,  because  farmer  don't  want  you  any  more,  and  then 
poor  Mister  Churchouse  is  going  to  pass  away.  He's  just 
fading  out  like  a  night-light  —  flickering  up  and  down 
and  bound  to  be  called.  And  the  best  man  and  the  truest 
friend  to  sorrow  that  ever  trod  the  earth." 

"  I  was  going  from  here,"  he  answered.  "  And  you  can 
look  to  me  for  making  a  pound  a  week,  and  you  can  have 
it  all  if  you'll  take  nothing  from  any  of  my  enemies.  If 
you  take  money  from  my  enemies,  then  I  won't  help  you." 

"  You're  a  man  in  your  opinions  seemingly,  though  I 
wish  to  God  you  hadn't  grown  out  of  childhood  so  quick,  if 
you  were  going  to  grow  to  this.  It'll  drive  you  mad  if 
you're  not  careful.  Then  where  shall  I  be?  " 


SABINA  AND  ABEL  435 

"  I'll  drive  other  people  mad  —  not  you.  I'll  come  back 
home,  and  then  I'll  find  work  at  Bridport." 

"Where's  home  going  to  be  —  that's  the  question?" 
Sabina  answered.  "  There's  only  one  choice  for  you  — 
between  letting  him  finish  your  education  and  going  out  to 
work." 

"  We'll  live  in  Bridport,  then,"  he  told  her,  «  and  I'll  go 
into  something  with  machinery.  I'll  soon  rise,  and  I 
might  rise  high  enough  to  ruin  him  yet,  some  day.  And 
never  you  forget  he  had  my  offer  and  turned  it  down.  He 
didn't  know  what  he  was  doing  when  he  did  that." 

"  He  couldn't  trust  you.  How  was  he  to  know  you 
wouldn't  try  to  burn  the  works  again  —  and  succeed  next 
time?" 

Abel  laughed. 

"  That  was  a  fool's  trick.  If  they'd  gone,  he'd  only 
have  built  'em  again,  better.  But  there  are  some  things 
he  can't  insure." 

"  I  know  a  good  few  spinners  at  Bridport.  Shall  I  have 
a  look  round  for  you?  "  she  asked,  as  they  rose  to  return. 

He  considered  and  agreed. 

"  Yes,  if  it's  only  through  you.  I  trust  you  not  to  go 
to  him  about  it.  If  you  did  and  I  found  you  had " 

"  No,  no.     I'll  not  go  to  him." 

He  came  and  looked  again  at  the  motor  car  that  had 
brought  her.  It  interested  him  as  keenly  as  before. 

"  That's  for  him  to  go  about  the  country  in,  because 
he's  standing  for  Parliament,"  explained  Sabina. 

But  his  anger  was  spent.  He  heeded  her  no  more,  and 
even  the  fact  that  his  father  owned  the  car  did  not  modify 
his  deep  interest. 

He  rode  a  mile  or  two  with  her  when  she  started  to  re- 
turn and  remained  silent  and  rapt  for  the  few  minutes  of 
the  experience. 

His  mother  tried  to  use  the  incident. 

"  If  you  was  to  be  good  and  patient  and  let  the  right 
thing  be  done,  I  daresay  in  a  few  years  you'd  rise  to  having 


436  THE  SPINNERS 

a  motor  of  your  own,"  she  said,  when  they  stopped  and  he 
started  to  trudge  back. 

"  If  ever  I  do,  I'll  get  it  for  myself,"  he  answered. 
"  And  when  you're  old,  I'll  drive  you  about,  very  likely." 

He  left  her  placidly,  and  it  was  understood  that  in  a 
month  he  would  return  to  her  as  soon  as  she  had  deter- 
mined on  their  immediate  future. 

For  herself  she  knew  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  de- 
ceive him,  yet  feared  to  attempt  it  after  the  recent  con- 
versation. She  felt  uneasily  proud  of  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SWAN    SONG 

THE  doctor  said  Mr.  Churchouse  was  dying  because  he 
didn't  wish  to  go  on  living,  and  when  Estelle  taxed  the  old 
man  with  his  indifference,  he  would  not  deny  it. 

"  I  have  lived  long  enough,"  he  said.  "  The  machine  is 
worn  out.  My  thinking  is  become  a  painful  effort.  I  for- 
get the  simplest  matters,  and  before  you  are  a  nuisance 
to  yourself,  you  may  feel  very  certain  you  have  long  been 
a  nuisance  to  other  people." 

He  had  for  some  months  grown  physically  weaker,  and 
both  Raymond  and  others  had  noticed  an  inconsequence 
of  utterance  and  an  inability  to  concentrate  the  mind.  He 
liked  friends  to  come  and  see  him  and  would  listen  with 
obvious  effort  to  follow  any  argument,  or  grasp  any  fresh 
item  of  news.  But  he  spoke  less  and  less.  Nor  could  Sa- 
bina  tempt  him  to  eat  adequate  food.  He  ignored  the 
doctor's  drugs  and  seemed  to  shrink  physically  as  well  as 
mentally. 

"  I'm  turning  into  my  chrysalis,"  he  said  once  to  Es- 
telle. "  One  has  to  go  through  that  phase  before  one  can 
be  a  butterfly.  Remember,  my  pretty  girl,  you  are  only 
burying  an  empty  chrysalis  when  this  broken  thing  is  put 
into  the  ground." 

"  You're  very  unkind  to  talk  so,"  she  declared.  "  You 
might  go  on  living  if  you  liked,  and  you  ought  to  try  — 
for  the  sake  of  those  who  love  you." 

But  he  shook  his  head. 

"  One  doesn't  control  these  things.  You  know  I've  al- 
ways told  you  that  the  length  of  the  thread  is  no  part  of 
our  business,  but  only  the  spinning.  I  should  have  liked 
to  see  you  married;  yet,  after  all,  why  not?  I  may  be 

437 


438  THE  SPINNERS 

there.  I  shall  hope  to  beg  a  holiday  on  that  occasion  and 
be  in  church." 

He  always  spoke  thus  quite  seriously.  Death  he  re- 
garded as  no  discontinuity,  or  destruction,  of  life,  but 
merely  an  alteration  of  environment. 

At  some  personal  cost  Miss  Ironsyde  came  to  take  leave 
of  him,  when  it  seemed  that  his  end  was  near.  He  kept 
his  bed  now,  and  by  conserving  his  strength  gained  a  little 
activity  of  mind. 

He  was  troubled  for  Jenny's  physical  sufferings ;  while 
she,  for  her  part,  endeavoured  to  discuss  Sabina's  prob- 
lems, but  she  could  not  interest  the  old  man  in  them. 

"  Abel  is  safe  with  his  father,"  said  Mr.  Churchouse. 
"  As  for  Sabina,  I  have  left  her  a  competency,  and  so  have 
you.  One  has  been  very  heartily  sorry  for  her.  She  will 
have  no  anxiety  when  my  will  is  read.  I  am  leaving  you 
three  books,  Jenny.  I  will  leave  you  more  if  you  like. 
My  library  as  a  whole  is  bequeathed  to  Estelle  Waldron, 
since  I  know  nobody  who  values  and  respects  books  so 
well." 

"  But  Abel,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  tried  to  establish  his  character  and  we  may 
find,  after  all,  I  did  more  than  we  think.  Providence  is 
ever  ready  to  water  and  tend  the  good  seed  that  we  sow. 
But  he  must  be  made  to  abandon  this  fatal  attitude  to  his 
father.  It  is  uncomfortable  and  inconvenient  and  helps 
nobody.  I  shall  talk  to  him,  I  hope,  before  I  die.  He  is 
coming  home  in  a  day  or  two." 

But  Abel  delayed  a  week,  at  his  master's  request,  that  he 
might  help  pull  a  field  of  mangels,  and  Mr.  Churchouse 
never  saw  him  again. 

During  his  last  days  Estelle  spent  much  time  with  him. 
He  seldom  mentioned  any  other  person  but  himself.  He 
wandered  in  a  disjointed  fashion  over  the  past  and  mixed 
his  recollections  with  his  dreams.  He  remembered  jests 
and  sometimes  uttered  them,  then  laughed;  but  often  he 


SWAN  SONG  439 

laughed  to  himself  without  giving  any  reason  for  his 
amusement. 

He  was  thoughtful  and  apologetic.  Indeed,  when  he 
looked  up  into  any  face,  he  always  said,  "  I  mourn  to  give 
you  so  much  trouble."  Latterly  he  confused  his  visitors, 
but  kept  Estelle  and  Sabina  clear  in  his  mind.  He  fan- 
cied that  they  had  quarrelled  and  was  always  seeking  to 
reconcile  them.  Every  morning  he  appeared  anxious  and 
distressed  until  they  stood  by  him  together  and  declared 
that  they  were  the  best  of  friends.  Then  he  became  tran- 
quil. 

"  That  being  so,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  depart  in  peace." 

Estelle  relieved  the  professional  nurse  and  would  read, 
talk,  or  listen,  as  he  wished.  He  spoke  disjointedly  one 
day  and  wove  reality  and  imagination  together. 

"  Much  good  marble  is  wasted  on  graves,"  he  declared. 
"  But  it  doesn't  bring  the  dead  to  life.  Do  you  believe  in 
the  resurrection  of  the  body,  Estelle?  I  hope  you  find  it 
easy.  That  is  one  of  the  things  I  never  was  honestly 
able  to  say  I  had  grasped.  Reason  will  fight  against  the 
nobler  tyranny  of  faith.  The  old  soul  in  a  glorified  body 
—  yet  the  same  body,  you  understand.  We  shan't  all  be 
in  one  pattern  in  heaven.  We  shall  preserve  our  individ- 
uality ;  and  yet  I  deprecate  passing  eternity  in  this  taber- 
nacle. Improvements  may  be  counted  upon,  I  think. 
The  art  of  the  Divine  Potter  can  doubtless  make  beautiful 
the  humblest  and  the  most  homely  vessel." 

"  Nobody  who  loves  you  would  have  you  changed,"  she 
assured  him. 

Then  his  mind  wandered  away  and  he  smiled. 

"  I  listened  to  a  street  preacher  once  —  long,  long  ago 
when  I  was  young  —  and  he  said  that  the  road  to  everlast- 
ing destruction  was  lined  with  women  and  gin  shops. 
Upon  which  a  sailor-man,  who  listened  to  him,  shouted  out, 
*  Oh  death,  where  is  thy  sting?  '  The  meeting  dissolved 
in  a  very  tornado  of  laughter.  Sailors  have  a  great  sense 


440  THE  SPINNERS 

of  humour.  It  can  take  the  place  of  a  fire  on  a  cold  day. 
One  touch  of  humour  makes  the  whole  world  kin.  If  you 
have  a  baby,  teach  it  to  laugh  as  well  as  to  walk.  But  I 
think  your  baby  will  do  that  readily  enough." 

On  another  occasion  he  laughed  suddenly  to  himself  and 
explained  his  amusement  to  Sabina,  who  sat  by  him. 

"  Eunominus,  the  heretic,  boasted  that  he  knew  the 
nature  of  God ;  whereupon  St.  Basil  instantly  puzzled  him 
with  twenty-one  questions  about  the  body  of  the  ant !  " 

Estelle  also  tried  to  make  Mr.  Churchouse  discuss  Abel 
Dinnett.  She  told  him  of  an  interesting  fact. 

"  I  have  got  Ray  to  promise  a  big  thing,"  she  said. 
"  He  hesitated,  but  he  loved  me  too  well  to  deny  me.  Be- 
sides, feeling  as  I  do,  I  couldn't  take  any  denial.  You  see 
Nature  is  so  much  greater  than  all  else  to  me,  and  con- 
trasted with  her,  our  little  man-made  laws,  often  so  mean 
and  hateful  in  their  cowardly  caution  and  cruel  injustice, 
look  pitiful  and  beneath  contempt.  And  I  don't  want  to 
come  between  Raymond  and  his  eldest  son.  I  won't  —  I 
won't  do  it.  Abel  is  his  first-born,  and  it  may  be  cold- 
blooded of  me  —  Ray  said  it  was  at  first  —  but  I  insist  on 
that.  I've  made  him  see,  and  I've  made  father  see.  I 
feel  so  much  about  it,  that  I  wouldn't  marry  him  if  he 
didn't  recognize  Abel  first  and  treat  him  as  the  first-born 
ought  to  be  treated." 

"  Abel  —  Abel  Dinnett,"  said  the  other,  who  had  not 
followed  her  speech.  "  A  good-looking  boy,  but  lawless. 
He  wants  the  world  to  bend  to  him ;  and  yet,  if  you'll  be- 
lieve me,  there  is  a  vein  of  fine  sentiment  in  his  nature. 
With  tears  in  his  eyes  he  once  told  me  that  he  had  seen  a 
fellow  pupil  at  school  cruelly  killing  insects  with  a  burning 
glass ;  and  he  had  beaten  the  cruel  lad  and  broken  his  glass. 
That  is  all  to  the  good.  The  difficulty  for  him  is  that  he 
was  born  out  of  wedlock.  This  great  disability  could 
have  been  surmounted  in  America,  Scotland,  Ireland,  Ger- 
many, or,  in  fact,  anywhere  but  in  England.  The  law  of 
the  natural  child  in  this  country  would  bring  a  blush  to 


SWAN  SONG  441 

the  cheek  of  a  gorilla.  But  neither  Church  nor  State  will 
lift  a  finger  to  right  the  infamy." 

"  We  are  always  wanting  to  pluck  the  mote  out  of  our 
neighbour's  eyes,  and  never  see  the  beam  in  our  own,"  she 
answered.  "  Women  will  alter  that  some  day  —  and  the 
disgusting  divorce  laws,  too.  Perhaps  these  are  the  first 
things  they  will  alter,  when  they  have  the  power." 

"  Who  is  going  into  Parliament  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Some- 
body told  me,  but  I  forget.  He  was  a  friend  of  mine. 
I  remember  that  much." 

"  Ray  hopes  to  get  in.  I  am  going  to  help  him,  if  I 
can." 

"  It  is  a  great  responsibility.  Tell  him,  if  he  is  elected, 
to  fight  for  the  natural  child.  It  would  well  become  him 
to  do  so.  Let  him  rise  to  it.  Our  Saviour  said,  *  Suffer 
the  little  children  to  come  unto  Me.'  The  State,  on  the 
contrary,  says,  '  Suffer  the  little  children  to  be  done  to 
death  and  put  out  of  the  way.'  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "  suffer  fifty  thousand  little  chil- 
dren to  be  lost  every  year,  because  it  is  kinder  to  let  them 
perish,  than  help  them  to  live  under  the  wicked  laws  we 
have  planned  to  govern  them." 

But  his  mind  collapsed  and  when  she  strove  to  bring  it 
back  again,  she  could  not. 

Two  days  before  he  died,  Estelle  found  him  in  deep  dis- 
tress. He  begged  to  see  her  alone,  and  explained  that  he 
had  to  confess  a  great  sin. 

"  I  ought  to  tell  a  priest,"  he  said,  "  but  I  dare  think 
that  you  will  do  as  well.  If  you  absolve  me,  I  shall  know 
I  may  hope  to  be  forgiven.  I  have  lived  a  double  life,  Es- 
telle. I  have  pretended  what  was  not  true  —  not  merely 
once  or  twice,  but  systematically,  deliberately,  callously." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,  dear  Mister  Churchouse.  You 
couldn't." 

"  I  should  never  have  believed  it  myself.  But  even  the 
old  can  surprise  themselves,  painfully  sometimes.  I  have 
lived  with  this  perfidy  for  many  years ;  but  I  can't  die  with 


442  THE  SPINNERS 

it.  There's  always  an  inclination  to  confess  our  sins  to  a 
fellow  creature.  To  confess  them  to  our  Maker  is  quite 
needless,  because  He  knows  them;  but  it's  a  quality  of 
human  nature  to  feel  better  after  imparting  its  errors  to 
another  ear." 

He  broke  off. 

"  What  was  I  saying?     I  forget." 

"  That  you'd  done  something  ever  so  wicked  and  nobody 
knew  it." 

"  Yes,  yes.  The  books  —  the  books  I  used  to  receive 
from  unknown  admirers  by  post.  My  child,  there  were  no 
unknown  admirers !  Nobody  ever  admired  me,  either  se- 
cretly or  openly.  Why  should  they?  I  used  to  send  the 
books  to  myself  —  God  forgive  me." 

"  If  I'd  only  known,  I'd  have  sent  you  hundreds  of 
books,"  she  said.  "  I  did  send  you  one  or  two." 

"  I  know  it  —  they  are  my  most  precious  possessions. 
They  served  in  some  mysterious  way  to  soothe  my  bad 
conscience.  It  would  be  interesting  to  examine  and  find 
out  how  they  did.  But  my  brain  can't  look  into  anything 
subtle  now.  I  knew  you  sent  the  books.  My  good  angel 
has  recorded  my  thanks.  You  always  increased  my  vital- 
ity, Estelle.  You  are  keeping  me  alive  at  present.  You 
have  risen  in  the  autumn  of  my  life  as  a  gracious  dawn; 
you  have  been  the  sun  of  my  Indian  summer.  You  will 
be  a  good  wife  to  Raymond.  It  seems  only  yesterday  that 
he  was  a  little  thing  in  short  frocks,  and  Henry  so  proud 
of  him.  Now  Henry  is  dead,  and  Raymond  wife-old  and 
in  Parliament.  A  sound  Liberal,  like  his  father  before 
him." 

"  The  election  isn't  till  next  year.  But  I  hope  he'll  get 
in.  They  say  at  Bridport  he  has  a  very  good  chance." 

The  day  before  he  died,  Mr.  Churchouse  seemed  better 
and  talked  to  Estelle  of  another  visit  from  her  father. 

"  I  always  esteem  his  great  good  humour  and  fine  Brit- 
ish instinct  to  live  and  let  live.  That  is  where  our  secret 


SWAN  SONG  443 

lies.  We  ride  Empire  with  such  a  loose  rein,  Estelle  — 
the  only  way.  You  cannot  dare  to  put  a  curb  on  proud 
people.  A  paradox  that  —  that  those  who  fast  bind  don't 
fast  find.  The  instinct  of  England's  greatness  is  in  your 
father ;  he  is  an  epitome  of  our  virtues.  He  has  no  imag- 
ination, however.  Nor  has  England.  If  she  had,  doubt- 
less she  would  not  do  the  great  deeds  that  beggar  imagina- 
tion. That  reminds  me.  There  is  one  little  gift  that  you 
must  have  from  my  own  hand.  A  work  of  imagination  — 
a  work  of  art.  Nobody  in  the  world  would  care  about  it 
but  you.  A  poem,  in  fact.  I  have  written  one  or  two 
others,  but  I  tore  them  up.  I  sent  them  to  newspapers, 
hoping  to  astonish  you  with  them;  but  when  they  were 
rejected  I  destroyed  them.  This  poem  I  did  not  send. 
Nobody  has  seen  it  but  myself.  Now  I  give  it  to  you, 
and  I  want  you  to  read  it  aloud  to  me,  that  I  may  hear 
how  it  sounds." 

"  How  clever  of  you !  There's  nothing  you  can't  do. 
I  know  I  shall  love  it." 

He  pointed  to  a  sheaf  of  papers  on  a  table. 

"  The  top  one.  It  is  a  mournful  subject,  yet  I  hope 
treated  cheerfully.  I  wrote  it  before  death  was  in  sight ; 
but  I  feel  no  more  alarmed  or  concerned  about  death  now 
than  I  did  then.  You  may  think  it  is  too  simple.  But 
simplicity,  though  boring  to  the  complex  mind,  is  really 
quite  worth  while.  The  childlike  spirit  —  there  is  much 
to  be  said  for  it.  No  doubt  I  have  missed  a  great  deal  by 
limiting  my  interests ;  but  I  have  gained  too  —  in  direct- 
ness." 

"  There  is  a  greatness  about  simplicity,"  she  said. 

"  To  be  simple  in  my  life  and  subtle  in  my  thought  was 
my  ambition  at  one  time ;  but  I  never  could  rise  to  subtlety. 
The  native  bent  was  against  it.  The  poem  —  I  do  not 
err  in  calling  it  a  poem  —  is  called  *  Afterwards  ' —  unless 
you  can  think  of  a  better  title.  If  any  obvious  and  glaring 
faults  strike  you,  tell  me.  No  doubt  there  are  many." 


444  THE  SPINNERS 

She  read  the  two  pages  written  in  his  little,  careful  and 
almost  feminine  hand. 

"  When  I  am  dead,  the  storm  and  stress 
Of  many-coloured  consciousness 
Like  blossom  petals  fall  away 
And  drops  the  calyx  back  to  clay; 
A  man,  not  woman,  makes  the  bed 
When  our  night  comes  and  we  are  dead. 

"  When  I  am  dead,  the  ebb  and  flow 
Of  folk  where  I  was  wont  to  go, 
Will  never  stay  a  moment's  pace, 
Or  miss  along  the  street  my  face. 
Yet  thoughts  may  wake  and  things  be  said 
By  one  or  two  when  I  am  dead. 

"  When  I  am  dead,  the  sunset  light 
Will  fill  the  .gap  upon  the  height 
In  summer  time,  but  on  the  plain 
Sink  down  as  winter  comes  again 
And  none  who  sees  the  evening  red 
Will  know  I  loved  it,  who  am  dead. 

"  When  I  am  dead,  upon  my  mound 
Exotic  flow'rs  may  first  be  found, 
And  not  until  they've  blown  away 
Will  other  blossoms  come  to  stay. 
A  daisy  growing  overhead 
Brings  gentle  pleasure  to  the  dead. 

"  When  I  am  dead,  I'd  love  to  see 
An  amber  thrush  hop  over  me 
And  bend  his  ear,  as  he  would  know 
What  I  am  whispering  down  below. 
May  many  a  song-bird  find  his  bread 
Upon  my  grave  when  I  am  dead. 

"  When  I  am  dead,  and  years  shall  pass, 
The  scythe  will  cut  the  darnel  grass 
Now  and  again  for  decency, 
Where  we  forgotten  people  lie. 
O'er  ancient  graves  the  living  tread 
With  great  impertinence  on  the  dead. 

"  When  I  am  dead,  all  I  have  done 
Must  vanish,  like  the  evening  sun. 
My  book  about  the  bells  may  stay 


SWAN  SONG  445 

Behind  me  for  a  fleeting  day; 
But  will  not  very  oft  be  read 
By  anybody  when  I'm  dead." 

She  stopped  and  smiled  with  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"  I  had  meant  to  write  another  verse,"  he  explained, 
"  but  I  put  it  off  and  it's  too  late  now.  Such  as  it  is,  it 
is  yours.  Does  it  seem  to  you  to  be  interesting?  " 

"  It's  very  interesting  indeed,  and  very  beautiful.  I 
shall  always  value  it  as  my  greatest  treasure." 

"  Read  it  to  your  children,"  he  said,  "  and  if  the  op- 
portunity occurs,  take  them  sometimes  to  see  my  grave. 
The  spot  is  long  chosen.  Let  there  be  no  gardening  upon 
it  out  of  good  heart  but  bad  taste.  I  should  wish  it  left 
largely  to  Nature.  There  will  be  daisies  for  your  babies 
to  pick.  I  forget  the  text  I  selected.  It's  in  my  will." 

He  bade  her  good-bye  more  tenderly  than  usual,  as 
though  he  knew  that  he  would  never  see  her  again,  and  the 
next  morning  Bridetown  heard  that  the  old  man  had  died 
in  his  sleep.  The  people  felt  sorry,  for  he  left  no  enemies, 
and  his  many  kindly  thoughts  and  deeds  were  remembered 
for  a  little  while. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NEW    WORK    FOR    ABEL, 

WITH  a  swift  weaver's  knot  John  Best  mended  the  flying 
yarn.  Then  he  turned  from  a  novice  at  the  Gill  Spinner 
and  listened,  not  very  patiently,  to  one  who  interrupted 
his  lesson. 

"  It's  rather  a  doubtful  thing  that  you  should  always 
be  about  the  place  now  you've  left  it,  Levi,"  he  said  to  Mr. 
Baggs.  "  It  would  be  better  judgment  and  more  decent 
on  your  part  if  you  kept  away." 

"  You  may  think  so,"  answered  the  hackler,  "  but  I  do 
not.  And  until  the  figure  of  my  pension  is  settled,  I  shall 
come  and  go  and  take  no  denial." 

"  It  is  settled.  He  don't  change.  He's  said  you  shall 
have  ten  shillings  a  week  and  no  more,  so  that  it  will  be." 

"  And  what  if  I  decline  to  take  ten  shillings  a  week, 
after  fifty  years  of  work  in  his  beastly  Mill  ?  " 

"  Then  you  can  do  the  other  thing  and  go  without. 
You  want  it  both  ways,  you  do." 

"I  want  justice  —  no  more.  Common  justice,  I  sup- 
pose, can  be  got  in  Dorset  as  elsewhere.  I  ought  to  have 
had  a  high  testimonial  when  I  left  this  blasted  place  —  a 
proper  presentation  for  all  to  see,  and  a  public  feed  and  a 
purse  of  sovereigns  at  the  least." 

"  That's  what  I  mean  when  I  say  you  can't  have  it  both 
ways,"  answered  Mr.  Best.  "  To  be  nice  and  pick  words 
and  consider  your  feelings  is  waste  of  time,  so  I  tell  you 
that  you  can't  grizzle  and  grumble  and  find  fault  with 
everything  and  everybody  for  fifty  years,  and  then  expect 
people  to  bow  down  and  worship  you  and  collect  a  purse 
of  gold  when  you  retire.  If  we  flew  any  flags  about  you, 

446 


NEW  WORK  FOR  ABEL  447 

it  would  be  because  we'd  got  rid  of  you.  Mister  Ironsyde 
don't  like  you,  and  why  should  he?  You've  always  been 
up  against  the  employer  and  you've  never  lost  a  chance 
to  poison  the  minds  of  the  employed.  There's  no  good 
will  in  you  and  never  was,  and  where  you  could  hang  us 
up  in  the  Mill  and  make  difficulties  without  getting  your- 
self into  trouble,  you've  always  took  great  pleasure  in  so 
doing.  Did  you  ever  pull  with  me,  or  anybody,  if  you 
could  help  it?  Never.  You  pulled  against.  You'd  often 
have  liked  to  treat  us  like  the  hemp  and  tear  us  to  pieces 
on  your  rougher's  hackle.  And  how  does  such  a  man  ex- 
pect anybody  to  care  about  him?  There  was  no  reason 
why  you  should  have  had  a  pension  at  all,  in  my  opinion. 
You've  been  blessed  with  good  health  and  no  family,  and 
you've  never  spent  a  shilling  on  another  fellow  creature 
in  your  life.  Therefore,  it's  more  than  justice  that  you 
get  ten  shillings,  and  not  less  as  you  seem  to  think." 

Mr.  Baggs  glowered  at  John  during  this  harangue. 
His  was  the  steadfast  attitude  of  the  egoist,  who  sees  all 
life  in  terms  of  his  own  interest  alone. 

"  We've  got  to  fight  for  ourselves  in  this  world  since 
there's  none  other  to  fight  for  us,"  he  said,  "  and,  of 
course,  you  take  his  side.  You've  licked  Ironsyde  boots 
all  your  life,  and  nothing  an  Ironsyde  can  do  is  wrong. 
But  I  might  have  known  the  man  that's  done  the  wicked- 
ness he's  done,  and  deserts  his  child  and  let  his  only  son 
work  on  the  land,  wouldn't  meet  me  fair.  There's  no  hon- 
our or  honesty  in  the  creature,  but  if  he  thinks  I'm  going 
to  take  this  slight  without  lifting  my  voice  against  it,  he's 
wrong.  To  leave  the  works  and  sneak  out  of  'em  un- 
mourned  and  without  a  bit  of  talk  and  a  testimonial  was 
shameful  enough;  but  ten  shilling  a  week  —  no!  The 
country  shall  ring  about  that  and  he'll  find  his  credit 
shaken.  'Tis  enough  to  lose  him  his  election  to  Parlia- 
ment, and  I  hope  it  will  do  so." 

Best  stared. 

"  You're  a  cracked  old  fool,  and  not  a  spark  of  proper 


448  THE  SPINNERS 

pride  or  gratitude  in  you.  Feeling  like  that,  I  wonder  you 
dare  touch  his  money ;  but  you're  the  sort  who  would  take 
gifts  with  one  hand  and  stab  the  giver  with  the  other.  I 
hope  he'll  change  his  mind  yet  and  give  you  no  pension 
at  all." 

Levi,  rather  impressed  with  this  unusual  display  of  feel- 
ing from  the  foreman,  growled  a  little  longer,  then  went  his 
way ;  while  in  John  there  arose  a  determination  to  prevent 
Mr.  Baggs  from  visiting  the  scene  of  his  old  activities.  At 
present  force  of  habit  drew  the  old  man  to  spend  half  his 
time  here;  and  now,  when  Best  had  returned  to  the  Gill 
Spinner,  Levi  prowled  off  to  his  old  theatre  of  work,  en- 
tered the  hackling  shop  and  criticised  the  new  hackler. 
His  successor  was  young  and  stood  in  awe  of  him  at  first ; 
but  awe  was  not  a  quality  the  veteran  inspired  for  long. 
Already  Joe  Ash  began  to  grow  restive  under  Levi's  criti- 
cisms, and  dimly  to  feel  that  the  old  hackler  was  better 
away.  To-day  Mr.  Baggs  allowed  the  resentment  awak- 
ened by  Best's  criticisms  to  take  shape  in  offensive  com- 
ments at  the  expense  of  his  young  successor.  He  was  of 
that  order  of  beings  who,  when  kicked,  rests  not  until  he 
has  kicked  somebody  again. 

But  to-day  the  evil  star  of  Mr.  Baggs  was  in  ascendant, 
and  when  he  told  the  youth  that  he  wasted  half  his  strength 
and  had  evidently  been  taught  his  business  by  a  fool,  Levi 
was  called  to  suffer  a  spirited  retort.  Joe  Ash  came  from 
the  Midlands ;  his  vocabulary  was  wider  than  that  of  Mr. 
Baggs,  and  he  soon  had  the  old  man  gasping.  Finally  he 
ordered  him  out  of  the  shop,  and  told  him  that  if  he  did 
not  go  he  would  be  put  out. 

"  Strength  or  no  strength,"  he  said,  "  I've  got  enough 
for  you,  so  hop  out  of  this  and  don't  come  back.  If  you're 
to  be  free  of  my  shop,  I  leave;  and  that's  all  there  is  to 
it." 

Mr.  Baggs  departed,  having  hoped  that  he  might  live  to 
see  the  young  man  hung  with  his  own  long  line.  He  then 
pursued  his  way  by  the  river,  labouring  under  acute  emo- 


NEW  WORK  FOR  ABEL  449 

tions,  and  half  a  mile  down  stream  met  a  lad  engaged  in 
angling. 

Abel  Dinnett  had  returned  home  and  was  making  holiday 
until  his  mother  should  discover  work  for  him,  or  he  him- 
self be  able  to  get  occupation. 

For  the  moment  Sabina  found  herself  sufficiently  busy 
packing  up  her  possessions  and  preparing  for  the  forth- 
coming sale  at  '  The  Magnolias.' 

She  was  waiting  to  find  a  new  home  until  Abel's  future 
labour  appeared;  but,  in  secret,  Raymond  Ironsyde  had 
undertaken  to  obtain  it,  and  she  knew  that  henceforth  she 
would  live  at  Bridport. 

Mr.  Baggs  poured  out  his  wrongs,  but  he  did  not  begin 
immediately.  Failing  adult  ears,  Abel's  served  him,  and 
he  proceeded  to  declare  that  the  new  hackler  was  a  worth- 
less rogue,  who  did  not  know  his  business  and  would  never 
earn  his  money. 

Abel,  however,  had  reached  a  standard  of  intelligence 
that  no  longer  respected  Mr.  Baggs. 

"  I  don't  go  to  the  works  now,"  he  said,  "  and  never  shall 
again.  I  don't  care  nothing  about  them.  My  mother 
and  me  are  going  to  leave  Bridetown  when  I  get  a  job." 

"  No  doubt  —  no  doubt.  Though  I  dare  say  your  talk 
is  sour  grapes  —  seeing  as  you'll  never  come  by  your 
rights." 

Abel  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  iron-roofed  buildings  up  the 
valley. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  could,"  he  said.  "  That  man  wants  to  win 
me  now.  He's  going  to  be  married,  and  she  —  her  he's 
going  to  marry  —  told  my  mother  that  he's  wishful  for  me 
to  be  his  proper  son  and  be  treated  according.  But  I 
won't  have  his  damned  friendship  now.  It's  too  late  now. 
You  can't  drive  hate  out  of  a  man  with  gifts." 

"  They  ain't  gifts  —  they're  your  right  and  due.  'Tis 
done  to  save  his  face  before  the  people,  so  they'll  forgive 
his  past  and  help  send  him  into  Parliament.  Look  at  me 
—  fifty  years  of  service  and  ten  shillings  a  week  pension ! 


450  THE  SPINNERS 

It  shall  be  known  and  'twill  lose  him  countless  votes,  please 
God.  A  dog  like  that  in  Parliament !  'Twould  be  a  dis- 
grace to  the  nation.  And  you  go  on  hating  him  if  you're 
a  brave  boy.  Every  honest  man  hates  him,  same  as  I  do. 
Twenty  shillings  I  ought  to  have  had,  if  a  penny." 

"  Fling  his  money  back  in  his  face,"  said  Abel.  "  No- 
body did  ought  to  touch  his  money,  or  work  for  it.  And 
if  every  man  and  woman  refused  to  go  in  his  works,  then 
he'd  be  ruined." 

"  The  wicked  flourish  like  the  green  bay  tree  in  this 
country,  because  there's  such  a  cruel  lot  of  'em,  and  they 
back  each  other  up  against  the  righteous,"  declared  Levi. 
"  But  a  time's  coming,  and  you'll  live  to  see  it,  when  the 
world  will  rise  against  their  iniquity." 

"  Don't  take  his  money,  then." 

"  It  ain't  his  money.  It's  my  money.  He's  keeping 
back  my  money.  When  that  John  Best  drops  out,  as  he 
ought  to  do,  for  he's  long  past  his  work,  will  he  get  ten 
shillings  a  week?  Two  pound,  more  like;  and  all  because 
he  cringes  and  lies  and  lets  the  powers  of  darkness  trample 
on  him !  And  may  the  money  turn  to  poison  in  his  mouth 
when  he  does  get  it." 

"  Everything  about  Ironsyde  is  poison,"  added  Abel. 
"  And  that  girl  that  was  a  friend  to  me  —  he's  poisoned 
her  now,  and  I  won't  know  her  no  more.  I  won't  neigh- 
bour with  anybody  that  has  a  good  word  for  him,  and  I 
won't  breathe  the  same  air  with  him  much  longer;  and  I 
told  my  mother  if  she  took  a  penny  from  him,  I'd  throw 
her  over,  too." 

"  Quite  right.  I  wish  you  was  strong  enough  to  punish 
him;  but  if  you  was,  he'd  come  whining  to  you  and  pray 
you  not  to.  M«n  like  him  only  make  war  on  women  and 
the  weak." 

Abel  listened. 

"  I'll  punish  him  if  he  lives  long  enough,"  he  said. 
"  That's  what  I'm  after.  I'll  bide  my  time." 

"  And  for  him  to  dare  to  get  up  and  ask  the  people  to 


NEW  WORK  FOR  ABEL  451 

send  him  to  Parliament.  But  they  won't.  He's  too  well 
known  in  these  parts  for  that.  Who's  he  that  he  should 
be  lifted  up  to  represent  honest,  God-fearing  men?  " 

"  If  there  was  anything  to  stop  him  getting  in,  I'd  do 
it,"  declared  Abel. 

"  'Tis  for  us,  with  weight  of  years  and  experience,  to 
keep  him  out.  All  sensible  people  will  vote  against  him, 
and  the  more  that  know  the  truth  of  him  the  fewer  will 
support  him.  And  Republican  though  I  am,  I'd  rather 
vote  for  the  Tory  than  him.  And  as  for  you,  if  you  stood 
up  at  his  meetings  when  the  time  comes,  while  they  were  all 
cheering  the  wretch,  and  cried  out  that  you  was  his  son 
—  that  would  be  sure  to  lose  him  a  good  few  God-fearing 
votes.  You  think  of  it;  you  might  hinder  him  and  even 
work  him  a  mint  of  harm  that  way." 

The  old  man  left  Abel  to  consider  his  advice  and  the 
angler  sat  watching  his  float  for  another  hour.  But  his 
thoughts  were  on  what  he  had  heard ;  and  he  felt  no  more 
interest  in  his  sport. 

Presently  he  wound  up  his  line  and  went  home.  He 
was  attracted  by  Levi's  suggestion  and  guessed  that  he 
might  create  great  feeling  against  his  father  in  that  way. 
Himself,  he  did  not  shrink  from  the  ordeal  in  imagination ; 
indeed  his  inherent  vanity  rather  courted  it.  But  when  he 
told  his  mother  what  he  might  do,  she  urged  him  to  at- 
tempt no  such  thing.  Indeed  she  criticised  him  sharply 
for  such  a  foolish  thought. 

"  You'll  lose  all  sympathy  from  the  people,"  she  said, 
"  and  be  flung  out ;  and  none  will  care  twopence  for  you. 
When  you  tried  to  burn  the  place  down  and  he  forgave 
you,  that  made  a  feeling  for  him,  and  since  then  'tis  well 
known  by  those  that  matter,  that  he's  done  all  he  could 
for  you  under  the  circumstances." 

"  That's  what  he  hasn't." 

"  That's  what  he  would  if  you'd  let  him.  So  it's  silly 
to  think  you've  got  any  more  grievances,  and  if  you  get 
up  and  make  a  row  at  one  of  his  meetings,  you'll  only  be 


452  THE  SPINNERS 

chucked  into  the  street.  You're  nobody  now,  through 
your  own  fault,  and  you've  made  people  sorry  for  your 
father  instead  of  sorry  for  you,  because  you're  such  a  pig- 
headed fool  about  him  and  won't  see  sense." 

The  boy  flushed  and  glared  at  his  mother,  who  seldom 
spoke  in  this  vein. 

"  If  you  wasn't  my  mother,  I'd  hit  you  down  for  that," 
he  said,  clenching  his  fists.  "  What  do  you  know  about 
things  to  talk  to  me  like  that?  Who  are  you  to  take  his 
side  and  cringe  to  him?  If  you  can't  judge  him,  there's 
plenty  that  can,  and  it's  you  who  are  pig-headed,  not  me, 
because  you  don't  see  I'm  fighting  your  battle  for  you. 
It  may  seem  too  late  to  fight  for  you;  but  it's  never  too 
late  to  hate  a  wicked  beast,  and  if  I  can  help  to  keep  him 
from  getting  what  he  wants  I  will,  and  I  don't  care  how  I 
do  it,  either." 

She  looked  at  him  with  little  love  in  her  eyes. 

"  You're  onlv  being  a  scourge  to  me  —  not  to  him,"  she 
answered.  "  You  can't  hurt  him,  however  much  you  want 
to,  and  you  can't  hurt  his  name  or  reputation,  because 
time  heals  all  and  he's  done  much  to  others  that  will  make 
them  forget  what  he  did  to  me.  I  forget  myself  some- 
times, so  'tis  certain  enough  the  people  do.  And  if  I  can, 
surely  to  God  you  can,  if  only  for  my  sake.  You're  pun- 
ishing me  for  being  your  mother,  not  him  for  being  your 
father  —  just  contrary  to  what  you  want." 

"  That's  all  I  get,  then,  for  standing  up  for  you  against 
him,  and  keeping  it  before  him  and  the  people  what  he's 
done  against  you.  Didn't  you  tell  me  years  and  years  ago 
I'd  fight  your  battles  some  day?  And  now,  when  I'm  got 
clever  enough  to  set  about  it,  you  curse  me." 

"  I  don't  curse  you,  Abel.  But  time  is  past  for  fight- 
ing battles.  There's  nothing  to  fight  about  now." 

"  We're  punishing  him  cruel  by  not  taking  his  money ; 
but  there's  more  to  do  yet,"  he  said.  "  And  I'll  do  it  if  I 
can.  And  you  mind  that  I'm  fighting  against  him  for 
your  sake,  and  if  you're  grown  too  old  and  too  tired  to 


NEW  WORK  FOR  ABEL  453 

hate  the  man  any  more,  I  haven't.  I  can  hate  him  for  you 
as  well  as  myself." 

"  And  the  hate  comes  back  on  you,"  she  said.  "  It's 
long  past  the  time  for  all  that.  You've  got  plenty  of 
brains  and  you  know  that  this  passion  against  him  is  only 
harming  yourself.  For  God's  sake  drop  it.  You  say 
you're  a  man  now.  Then  be  a  man  and  take  man's  views 
and  look  on  ahead  and  think  of  your  future  life.  Far 
from  helping  me,  you're  only  hindering  me.  We've  come 
to  a  time  when  life's  altered  and  the  old  life  here  is  done. 
We're  going  to  begin  life  together  —  you  and  me  —  and 
you're  going  to  make  our  fortunes ;  but  it's  a  mad  look- 
out if  you  mean  to  put  all  your  strength  into  hating  them 
that  have  no  hate  for  you.  It  will  make  you  bitter  and 
useless,  and  you'll  grow  up  a  sour,  friendless  creature,  like 
Levi  Baggs.  What's  he  got  out  of  all  his  hate  and  un- 
kindness  to  the  world?  " 

Abel  considered. 

"  He  hates  everybody,"  he  said.  "  It's  no  use  to  hate 
everybody,  because  then  everybody  will  hate  you.  I  don't 
hate  everybody.  I  only  hate  him." 

She  argued,  but  knew  that  she  had  not  changed  her  son. 
And  then,  when  he  was  gone  again,  fearing  that  he  might 
do  what  he  threatened,  she  went  to  see  Estelle  Waldron. 

They  met  on  the  way  to  see  each  other,  for  Estelle  had 
heard  from  Raymond  that  work  was  found  for  Abel  and, 
as  next  step  in  the  plot,  it  was  necessary  for  Sabina  to 
go  to  a  small  spinning  mill  in  Bridport  herself.  Iron- 
syde's  name  was  not  to  transpire. 

Gladly  enough  the  mother  undertook  her  task. 

"  He's  out  of  hand,"  she  said,  "  and  away  from  home 
half  his  time.  He  roams  about  and  listens  to  bad  coun- 
sellors. He's  worse  than  ever  since  he's  idle.  He's  got 
another  evil  thought  now,  for  his  thoughts  foul  his  reason, 
as  well  I  know  thoughts  can." 

She  told  Estelle  what  Abel  had  declared  he  would  do. 

"  You'd  best  let  Mister  Ironsyde  know,"  she  said,  "  and 


454  THE  SPINNERS 

he'll  take  steps  according.  If  the  boy  can  be  kept  out 
from  any  meeting  it  would  be  wisest.  But  I'm  powerless. 
I've  wearied  my  tongue  begging  and  blaming  and  praying 
to  him  to  use  his  sense ;  but  it's  beyond  my  power  to  make 
him  understand.  There's  a  devil  in  him  and  nobody  can 
cast  it  out." 

"  He  won't  speak  to  me  now.  Poor  Abel  —  yes,  it's 
something  like  a  devil.  I'll  tell  his  father.  We  were  very 

hopeful  about  the  future  until But  if  he  gets  to 

work,  it  may  sweeten  him.  He'll  have  good  wages  and 
meet  nice  people." 

"  I  wish  it  had  been  farther  off." 

"  So  did  I,"  answered  Estelle ;  "  but  his  father  wants 
him  under  his  own  eye  and  will  put  him  into  something 
better  the  moment  he  can.  You  won't  mention  this  to 
Abel,  and  he  won't  hear  it  there,  because  the  workers  don't 
know  it ;  but  Raymond  has  a  large  interest  in  the  Mill 
really." 

"  I'll  not  mention  it.  I'll  go  to-morrow,  and  the  boy 
will  know  nothing  save  that  I've  got  him  a  good  job." 

"  He  can  begin  next  month ;  and  that  will  help  him  every 
way,  I  hope." 

So  things  fell  out,  and  within  a  month  Abel  was  at  work. 
He  believed  his  mother  solely  responsible  for  this  occupa- 
tion. She  had  yet  to  find  a  home  at  Bridport,  so  he  came 
and  went  from  Bridetown. 

He  was  soon  deeply  interested  and  only  talked  about  his 
labours  with  a  steam  engine.  Of  his  troubles  he  ceased  to 
speak,  and  for  many  days  never  mentioned  his  father's 
name. 


CHAPTER  XX 

IDEAL.S 

AN  event  which  seemed  more  or  less  remote,  came  suddenly 
to  the  forefront  of  Raymond  Ironsyde's  life,  for  ill-health 
hastened  the  retirement  of  the  sitting  member  and  a  parlia- 
mentary bye-election  was  called  for. 

Having  undertaken  the  constituency  he  could  not  turn 
back,  though  the  sudden  demand  had  not  been  expected. 
But  he  found  plenty  of  enthusiastic  helpers  and  his  own 
personality  had  made  him  many  friends. 

It  was  indeed  upon  the  significance  of  personality  that 
much  turned,  and  incidentally  the  experiences  into  which 
he  now  entered  served  to  show  him  all  that  personality  may 
mean.  Estelle  rejoiced  that  he  should  now  so  swiftly 
learn  what  had  so  long  been  apparent  to  her.  She  al- 
ways declared  an  enthusiasm  for  personality ;  to  her  it 
seemed  the  force  behind  everything  and  the  mainspring  of 
all  movement.  Lack  of  personality  meant  stagnation ;  but 
granted  personality,  then  advance  was  possible  —  almost 
inevitable. 

He  caught  her  meaning  and  appreciated  what  followed 
from  it.  But  he  saw  that  personality  demands  freedom 
before  its  fullest  expression  and  highest  altitude  are  at- 
tainable. That  altitude  had  never  been  reached  as  yet 
even  by  the  most  liberty-loving  people. 

"  There's  no  record  in  all  the  world  of  what  man  might 
do  under  conditions  of  real  liberty,"  said  Estelle.  "  It 
has  never  been  possible  so  far;  but  I  do  believe  history 
shows  that  the  nearer  we  approach  to  it,  the  more  beauti- 
ful life  becomes  for  everybody." 

Raymond  admitted  so  much  and  agreed  that  the  world 
had  yet  to  learn  what  it  might  achieve  under  a  nobler  dis- 
pensation of  freedom. 

455 


456  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Think  of  the  art,  the  thought,  the  leisure  for  good 
things,  if  the  ceaseless  fight  against  bad  things  were  only 
ended;  think  of  the  inspirations  that  personality  will  be 
free  to  express  some  day,"  she  said. 

But  he  shattered  her  dreams  sometimes.  She  would 
never  suffer  him  to  declare  any  advance  impossible ;  yet  she 
had  to  listen,  when  he  explained  that  countless  things  she 
cried  for  were  impracticable  under  existing  circumstances. 

"  You  want  to  get  to  the  goal  without  running  the  race, 
sweetheart,"  he  told  her  once.  "  Before  this  and  this  can 
possibly  happen,  that  and  that  must  happen.  House- 
building begins  at  the  cellars,  not  the  roof." 

She  wrestled  with  political  economy  and  its  bearings  on 
all  that  was  meant  by  democracy.  She  was  patient  and 
strove  to  master  detail  and  keep  within  the  domain  of 
reality.  But,  after  all,  she  taught  him  more  than  he  could 
teach  her ;  because  her  thoughts  sprung  from  an  imagina- 
tion touched  with  genius,  while  he  was  contented  to  take 
things  as  he  found  them  and  distrust  emotion  and  intuition. 

She  exploded  ideas  in  the  ordered  chambers  of  his  mind. 
The  proposition  that  labour  was  not  a  commodity  quite 
took  him  off  his  balance.  Yet  he  proved  too  logical  to 
deny  it  when  Estelle  convinced  his  reason. 

"  That  fact  belongs  to  the  root  of  all  the  future,  I  be- 
lieve," she  said.  "  From  it  all  the  flowers  and  seed  we 
hope  for  ought  to  come,  and  the  interpretation  of  every- 
thing vital.  Labour  and  the  labourer  aren't  two  different 
things;  they're  one  and  the  same  thing.  His  labour  is 
part  of  every  man,  and  it  can  no  more  be  measured  and 
calculated  away  from  him  than  his  body  and  soul  can. 
But  it  is  the  body  and  soul  that  must  regulate  labour,  not 
labour  the  body  and  soul.  So  you've  got  to  regard  labour 
and  the  rights  of  labour  as  part  of  the  rights  of  man, 
and  not  a  thing  to  be  bought  and  sold  like  a  pound  of 
tea.  You  see  that?  Labour,  in  fact,  is  as  sacred  as  hu- 
manity and  its  rights  are  sacred  too." 

"  So   are  the   rights   of  property,"  he  answered,  but 


IDEALS  457 

doubtfully,  for  he  knew  at  heart  that  the  one  proposition 
did  not  by  any  means  embrace  the  other.  Indeed  Estelle 
contradicted  him  very  forcibly. 

"  Not  the  least  bit  in  the  world,"  she  declared.  "  They 
are  as  far  apart  as  the  poles.  There's  nothing  the  least 
sacred  about  property.  The  rights  of  property  are  cas- 
ual. They  generally  depend  on  all  sorts  of  things  that 
don't  matter.  They  happen  through  the  changes  and 
chances  of  life,  and  human  whims  and  fads  and  the  pure 
accident  of  heredity  and  descent.  They  are  all  on  a  lower 
level;  they  are  all  suspect,  whereas  the  rights  of  labour 
are  a  part  of  humanity." 

But  he  followed  her  parry  with  a  sharp  riposte. 

"  Remember  what  happened  when  somebody  promised  to 
marry  me,"  he  said.  "  Remember  that,  as  a  principle  of 
rectitude,  I  have  recognised  my  son  and  accepted  your 
very  '  accident  of  descent '  as  chief  reason  for  according 
him  all  a  first-born's  rights.  That  was  your  instinct  to- 
wards right  —  his  rights  of  property." 

"  It  was  righteousness,  not  rights  of  property  that  made 
you  decide,"  she  assured  him.  "  Abel  has  no  rights  of 
property.  The  law  ignores  his  rights  to  be  alive  at  all,  I 
believe.  The  law  calls  him  *  the  son  of  none,'  and  if  you 
have  no  parents,  you  can't  really  exist.  But  the  rights 
of  labour  are  above  human  law  and  founded  in  humanity. 
They  are  Abel's,  yours,  everybody's.  The  man  who 
works,  by  that  fact  commands  the  rights  of  labour.  Be- 
sides, circumstances  alter  cases." 

"  Yes,  and  may  again,"  he  replied.  "  We  can't  deny  the 
difficulties  in  this  personal  experience  of  mine.  But  I'm 
beginning  to  think  the  boy's  not  normal.  I  very  much  fear 
there's  a  screw  loose." 

"  Don't  think  that.     He's  a  very  clever  boy." 

"  And  yet  Sabina  tells  me  frankly  that  his  bitterness 
against  me  keeps  pace  with  his  growing  intelligence.  In- 
stead of  his  wits  defeating  his  bad  temper,  as  they  do 
sooner  or  later  with  most  sane  people,  the  older  he  gets,  the 


458  THE  SPINNERS 

more  his  dislike  increases  and  the  less  trouble  he  takes  to 
control  it." 

66  If  that  were  so,  of  course  circumstances  might  alter 
the  case  again,"  she  admitted.  "  But  I  don't  believe 
there's  a  weak  spot  like  that.  There's  something  retarded 
— some  confusion  of  thought,  some  kind  of  knot  in  his 
mind  that  isn't  smoothed  out  yet.  You've  been  infinitely 
patient  and  we'll  go  on  being  infinitely  patient  —  to- 
gether." 

This  difficult  matter  she  dropped  for  the  present;  but 
finding  him  some  days  later  in  a  recipient  mood,  followed 
up  her  cherished  argument,  that  labour  must  be  counted 
a  commodity  no  more. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Ray,"  she  said.  "  Very  soon  you'll  be 
too  busy  to  listen  to  me  at  all  —  these  are  the  last  chances 
for  me  before  your  meetings  begin.  But  really  what  I'm 
saying  will  be  splendidly  useful  in  speeches." 

"  All  very  well  if  getting  in  was  all  that  mattered,"  he 
told  her.  "  I  can't  echo  all  your  ideas,  Chicky,  and 
speeches  have  a  way  of  rising  up  against  one  at  awkward 
moments  afterwards." 

"  At  any  rate,  you  grant  the  main  point,"  she  said, 
"  and  so  you  must  grant  what  follows  from  it ;  and  if  you 
grant  that,  and  put  it  in  your  manifesto,  you'll  lose  a  few 
votes,  but  you'll  gain  hundreds.  If  labour's  not  a  com- 
modity, but  to  be  regulated  by  body  and  soul,  then  wages 
must  be  regulated  by  body  and  soul  too.  Or,  if  you  want 
to  put  it  in  a  way  for  a  crowd  to  understand,  you  can 
say  that  we  give  even  a  steam-engine  the  oil  it  must  have 
before  it  begins  to  work,  so  how  can  we  deny  a  man  the 
oil  he  wants  before  he  begins  to  work?  " 

"  That  means  a  minimum  of  wages." 

"  Yes,  a  minimum  consistent  with  human  needs,  below 
which  wages  cannot  and  must  not  fail.  That  minimum 
should  be  just  as  much  taken  for  granted  as  the  air  a 
man  breathes,  or  the  water  he  drinks,  or  the  free  education 
he  gets  as  a  boy.  It  isn't  wages  really;  it's  recognition 


IDEALS  459 

of  a  man's  right  to  live  and  share  the  privileges  of  life, 
and  be  self-respecting,  just  because  he  is  a  man.  Every- 
body who  is  born,  Ray,  ought  to  have  the  unquestioned 
right  to  live,  and  the  amplest  opportunity  to  become  a 
good  and  useful  citizen.  After  that  is  granted,  then  wages 
should  begin,  and  each  man,  or  woman,  should  have  full 
freedom  and  opportunity  to  earn  what  he,  or  she,  was 
worth.  That  does  away  with  the  absurd  idea  of  equality, 
which  can  only  be  created  artificially  and  would  breed  dis- 
aster if  we  did  create  it." 

"  There's  no  such  thing  as  equality  in  human  nature, 
any  more  than  in  any  other  nature,  Estelle.  Seeds  from 
the  same  pod  are  different  —  some  weak,  some  strong. 
But  I  grant  the  main  petition.  The  idea's  first  rate  —  a 
firm  basis  of  right  to  reasonable  life,  and  security  for 
every  human  being  as  our  low-water  mark;  while,  on  that 
foundation,  each  may  lift  an  edifice  according  to  their 
power.  So  that  none  who  has  the  power  to  rise  above  the 
minimum  would  be  prevented  from  doing  so,  and  no  Trades 
Union  tyranny  should  interfere  to  prevent  the  strong  man 
working  eight  hours  a  day  if  he  desires  to  do  so,  because 
the  weaker  one  can  only  work  seven." 

"  I  think  the  Trades  Unions  only  want  to  prevent  men 
being  handicapped  out  of  the  race  at  the  start,"  she  an- 
swered. "  They  know  as  well  as  we  do,  that  men  are  not 
born  equal  in  mind  or  body ;  but  rightly  and  reasonably, 
they  want  them  all  to  start  equal  as  far  as  conditions  go. 
The  race  is  to  the  strong  and  the  prize  is  to  the  strong; 
but  all,  at  least,  should  have  power  to  train  for  the  race 
and  start  with  equal  opportunities  to  win.  There's  such 
a  lot  to  be  done." 

"  There  is,"  he  admitted.  "  The  handicap  you  talk  of 
is  created  for  thousands  and  thousands  before  they  are 
born  at  all." 

"  Think  of  being  handicapped  out  of  the  race  before 
you  are  born!  "  she  cried.  "  What  could  be  more  unjust 
and  cruel  and  wicked  than  that?  " 


460  THE  SPINNERS 

"  Very  few  will  put  the  unborn  before  the  living,  or 
think  of  a  potential  child  rather  than  the  desires  of  the 
parents  —  selfish  though  they  may  be.  It's  a  free  coun- 
try, and  we  don't  know  enough  to  start  stopping  people 
from  having  a  hand  in  the  next  generation  if  they  decide 
to  do  so." 

But  her  enthusiasm  was  not  quenched  by  difficulties. 

"  We  want  science  and  politics  and  good  will  to  work 
together,"  she  said. 

He  returned  to  the  smaller  argument. 

"  It's  a  far  cry  to  what  you  want,  yet  I  for  one  don't 
shrink  from  it.  The  better  a  man  is,  the  larger  share  he 
should  have  of  the  profits  of  any  enterprise  he  helps  to 
advance.  Then  wages  would  take  the  shape  of  his  share 
in  the  profits,  and  you  might  easily  find  a  head  workman 
of  genius  drawing  more  out  of  a  business  than  —  say,  a 
junior  partner,  who  is  a  fool  and  not  nearly  so  vital  to 
the  enterprise  as  he.  But,  you  see,  if  we  say  that,  we 
argue  in  a  circle,  for  the  junior  partner,  ass  though  he  is, 
represents  oil  and  fuel,  which  are  just  as  important  as  the 
clever  workman's  brains  —  in  fact,  his  brains  can't  work 
without  them.  Capital  and  labour  are  two  halves  of  a 
whole  and  depend  upon  each  other,  as  much  as  men  depend 
on  women  and  women  on  men.  Capital  does  a  great  deal 
more  than  pay  labour  wages,  remember.  It  educates  his 
children,  builds  his  houses  and  doctors  his  ailments.  Soon 
—  so  they  tell  me  —  capital  will  be  appropriated  to  look 
after  labour's  old  age  also,  and  cheer  his  manhood  with 
the  knowledge  that  his  age  is  safe." 

"  You  don't  grudge  any  of  these  things,  Ray?  " 

"  Not  one.  Every  man  should  have  security.  But, 
after  all,  capital  cannot  be  denied  its  rights.  It  has  got 
rights  of  some  sort,  surely?  Socialists  would  kill  the 
goose  that  lays  the  golden  eggs ;  but  though  they  lack 
power  yet  to  kill  the  goose,  they  possess  plenty  of  power 
to  frighten  it  away  to  foreign  shores,  where  it  can  build 


IDEALS  461 

its  nest  a  bit  more  hopefully  than  here.  Many,  who  scent 
repudiation  and  appropriation,  are  flying  already.  Capi- 
tal is  diminishing,  and  there  seems  a  fair  chance  of  labour 
being  over-coddled,  at  the  expense  of  capital,  when  the 
Liberals  come  in  again.  If  that  happens,  labour  is  weak- 
ened as  well  as  capital.  But  both  are  essential  to  the 
power  and  well-being  of  the  State.  If  we  ever  had  another 
war,  which  God  forbid,  labour  and  capital  would  have 
to  sink  all  differences  and  go  to  battle  together  unless 
we  meant  to  be  defeated.  Both  are  vital  to  our  salva- 
tion." 

"  Then  give  labour  an  interest  in  the  blessing  of  capi- 
tal," she  said.  "  Open  labour's  eyes  to  the  vital  values  of 
capital  —  its  strength  as  well  as  weakness.  Let  the  units 
of  labour  share  the  interests  of  their  employers  and  each 
become  a  capitalist  in  their  own  right.  What  does  it 
matter  where  the  capital  is  as  long  as  the  nation  has  got 
it  safe?  You  might  make  England  a  thousand  times 
richer  if  all  those  in  the  country,  who  want  to  save  money, 
had  the  power  to  save." 

"  How  can  we?  There's  not  enough  to  go  round,"  he 
told  her.  But  she  declared  that  no  argument. 

"  Then  create  conditions  under  which  there  might  be 
much  more.  Let  the  workers  be  owners,  too.  If  the  own- 
ers only  took  their  ownership  in  a  different  spirit  and  felt 
no  man  is  more  than  a  trustee  for  all  —  if  they  were  like 
you,  Ray,  who  are  a  worker  and  an  owner  both,  what  great 
things  might  happen !  Make  all  industry  co-operation, 
in  reality  as  well  as  theory,  and  a  real  democracy  must 
come  out  of  it.  It's  bound  to  come." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  nothing  can  help  it  coming.  We  are 
great  on  free  institutions  in  this  country  and  they  get 
freer  every  year." 

So  they  argued,  much  at  one  in  heart,  and  an  impartial 
listener  had  felt  that  it  was  within  the  power  of  the 
woman's  intelligence  and  the  man's  energy  and  common 


462  THE  SPINNERS 

sense,  to  help  the  world  as  far  as  individuals  can,  did 
chance  and  the  outcome  of  their  union  afford  them  oppor- 
tunity. 

But  Estelle  knew  that  good  ideas  were  of  little  value  in 
themselves.  Seed  is  of  no  account  if  the  earth  on  which  it 
falls  be  poisoned,  and  a  good  idea  above  all,  needs  good 
will  to  welcome  it.  Good  will  to  the  inspirations  of  man  is 
as  sunshine,  rain,  sweet  soil  to  the  seed ;  without  good  will 
all  thinking  must  perish,  or  at  best  lie  dormant.  She 
wondered  how  much  of  good  seed  had  perished  under  the 
bad  weather  of  human  weakness,  prejudice  and  jealousy. 
But  she  was  young,  and  hope  her  rightful  heritage.  The 
blessed  word  '  reconstruction  '  seemed  to  her  as  musical  as 
a  ring  of  bells. 

"  There  are  some  things  you  never  will  be  able  to  ex- 
press in  political  terms,  and  life  is  one  of  them,"  Ernest 
Churchouse  had  assured  her;  but  she  was  not  convinced 
of  it.  She  still  reverenced  politics  and  looked  to  it  to  play 
husbandman,  triumph  over  party  and  presently  shine  out, 
like  a  universal  sun,  whose  sole  warmth  was  good  will  to 
man. 

And  as  she  felt  personally  to  Raymond's  work,  so  did 
she  want  the  world  of  women  to  feel  to  all  men's  work. 
She  would  not  have  them  claim  their  rights  in  the  argu- 
ment of  parity  of  intellect,  for  that  she  felt  to  be  vain. 
It  was  by  the  virtue  of  disparity  that  their  equality  should 
appear.  Their  virtue  and  essential  aid  depended  on  the 
difference.  The  world  wanted  women,  not  to  do  what  men 
had  done,  but  to  bring  to  the  task  the  special  qualities  and 
distinctive  genius  of  womanhood  to  complement  and  crown 
the  labour  of  manhood.  The  mighty  structure  was  grow- 
ing ;  but  it  would  never  be  finished  without  the  saving  grace 
of  woman's  thought  and  the  touch  of  woman's  hand.  The 
world's  work  needed  them  —  not  for  the  qualities  they 
shared  with  men,  but  for  the  qualities  men  lacked  and  they 
possessed.  If  Raymond  represented  the  masculine  worker, 
she  hoped  that  she  might  presently  stand  in  the  ranks  of 


IDEALS  463 

the  women,  and  doubted  not  that  great  women  would  arise 
to  lead  her. 

She  remembered  that  the  Roman  element  of  humanity 
was  described  as  representing  the  male  spirit,  while  the 
Greek  stood  for  the  female;  and  she  could  easily  dream  a 
blend  of  the  two  destined  to  produce  a  spirit  greater  than 
either.  Love  quickened  her  visions  and  added  the  glow 
of  life  to  her  hopes. 

So  together  she  and  her  future  husband  prepared  for 
their  wedded  days,  and  if  ever  a  man  and  woman  faced  the 
future  with  steadfast  determination  to  do  justly  and  serve 
their  kind  with  the  best  of  their  united  powers,  this  man 
and  woman  did. 

They  were  to  be  married  after  the  election,  and  that 
would  take  place  early  in  the  coming  year. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ATEOPOS 

IRON,SYDE  for  once  found  himself  part  of  a  machine,  and 
by  no  means  the  most  important  part.  He  fought  the 
election  resolutely  and  spared  no  energy.  The  attraction 
of  the  contest  grew  upon  him,  and  since  he  contended 
against  a  personal  acquaintance,  one  who  rated  sports- 
manship as  highly  as  Arthur  Waldron  himself,  the  en- 
counter proceeded  on  rational  lines.  It  became  exceed- 
ingly strenuous  in  the  later  stages  and  Raymond's  agent, 
from  an  attitude  of  certainty,  grew  more  doubtful.  But 
the  personal  factor  told  for  the  Liberal.  He  was  popular 
in  the  constituency  and  Waldron,  himself  a  strong  Con- 
servative, whose  vote  must  necessarily  be  cast  against  his 
future  son-in-law,  preached  the  moral. 

"  If  you  beat  us,  Ray,  it  will  be  entirely  owing  to  the 
fact  that  you  played  cricket  and  football  in  the  public 
eye  for  twenty  years,"  he  asserted  and  believed. 

The  Liberal  Committee  room  was  at  *  The  Seven  Stars/ 
for  Mr.  Legg  supported  the  cause  of  democracy  and 
pinned  his  highest  hopes  thereto.  He  worked  hard  for 
Ironsyde  and,  on  the  sole  occasion  when  painful  incidents 
threatened  to  spoil  a  public  meeting,  Job  exercised  tact 
and  saved  the  situation. 

At  one  of  the  last  of  his  gatherings,  in  the  great,  new 
public  room  of  '  The  Seven  Stars,'  Ironsyde  had  been 
suddenly  confronted  with  his  son.  Abel  attended  this 
meeting  of  his  father's  supporters  and  attempted  to  inter- 
rupt it.  He  had  arrived  primed  with  words  and  meant  to 
declare  himself  before  the  people ;  but  when  the  time  came, 
he  was  nervous  and  lost  his  head.  Sitting  and  listening 

grew  to  an  agony.     He  could  not  wait  till  question  time 

464 


ATROPOS  465 

and  felt  a  force  within  him  crying  to  him,  to  get  upon  his 
feet  and  finish  the  thing  he  had  planned  to  do.  But  Job, 
who  was  among  the  stewards,  kept  watchful  eyes  upon  the 
benches,  and  Abel  had  hardly  stood  up,  when  he  recognised 
him.  Before  the  boy  had  shouted  half  a  dozen  incoherent 
words,  Mr.  Legg  and  a  policeman  were  at  his  side. 

He  sat  far  down  the  hall,  and  the  little  disturbance  he 
had  been  able  to  create  was  hardly  appreciated.  For 
Raymond  now  neared  the  end  of  his  speech  and  it  had 
contained  matter  which  aroused  attention  from  all  who 
listened  to  it,  awakened  disquiet  in  some,  but  enthusiasm 
among  the  greater  number.  He  was  telling  of  such  hopes 
and  desires  as  he  and  Estelle  shared,  and  though  an  in- 
different speaker,  the  purity  of  his  ambitions  and  their 
far-reaching  significance  challenged  intelligent  listeners. 

In  less  than  half  a  minute  Abel  was  removed.  He  did 
not  struggle,  but  his  first  instinct  was  great  relief  to  be 
outside.  Not  until  later  did  his  reverse  breed  wrath.  His 
father  had  not  seen  him  and  when  Ironsyde  inquired  after- 
wards, what  the  trouble  was,  Mr.  Legg  evaded  the  facts. 
But  he  looked  to  it  that  Abel  should  be  powerless  to  renew 
disturbances.  He  warned  those  who  controlled  the  re- 
maining meetings  not  to  admit  him,  and  henceforth  kept 
at  the  doors  a  man  who  knew  Abel.  Mr.  Legg  also  saw 
Sabina,  who  was  now  much  in  Bridport  concerned  with  a 
little  house  that  she  had  taken,  and  the  boy's  mother  im- 
plored him  to  do  no  more  evil.  To  her  surprise  he  ad- 
mitted that  he  had  been  wrong.  But  he  was  dark  and 
stormy.  She  saw  but  little  of  him  and  did  not  know  how 
he  occupied  his  leisure,  or  spent  his  wages. 

There  is  no  doubt  that,  at  this  time,  Abel  sank  out  of 
mind  with  those  most  interested  in  him.  Estelle  was  en- 
tirely preoccupied  with  the  election,  and  when  once  the 
lad's  new  work  had  been  determined  and  he  went  to  do  it, 
Raymond  dismissed  him  for  the  present  from  his  thoughts. 
He  felt  grateful  to  Sabina  for  falling  in  with  his  wishes 
and  hoped  that,  since  she  was  now  definitely  on  his  side, 


466  THE  SPINNERS 

a  time  might  soon  come  when  she  would  be  able  to  influence 
her  son.  Indeed  Sabina  herself  was  more  hopeful,  and 
when  Estelle  came  to  see  her  in  Bridport,  declared  that 
Abel  kept  regular  hours  and  appeared  to  be  interested  in 
his  work. 

Neither  she  nor  anybody  belonging  to  him  heard  of  the 
boy's  escapade  at  the  meeting,  for  upon  that  subject  Job 
Legg  felt  it  wisest  to  be  silent.  And  when  the  penultimate 
meeting  passed,  the  spirit  of  it  was  such  that  those  best 
able  to  judge  again  felt  very  sanguine  for  Ironsyde.  He 
had  created  a  good  impression  and  won  a  wide  measure  of 
support.  He  had  worked  hard,  traversed  all  the  ground 
and  left  the  people  under  no  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  his 
opinions.  Bridetown  was  for  him;  West  Haven  and  Brid- 
port were  said  to  be  largely  in  his  favour,  but  the  out- 
lying agricultural  district  inclined  towards  his  rival. 
Raymond  had,  however,  been  at  great  pains  to  win  the 
suffrage  of  the  farmers,  and  his  last  meeting  was  on  their 
account. 

Before  him  now  lay  the  promise  of  two  days'  rest,  and 
he  accepted  them  very  thankfully,  for  he  began  to  grow 
weary  in  mind  and  body.  He  had  poured  his  vitality  into 
the  stru^s-le  which,  started  more  or  less  as  a  sporting 
event,  gradually  waxed  into  a  serious  and  all-important 
matter.  And  as  his  knowledge  increased  and  his  physical 
energy  waned,  a  cloud  dulled  his  enthusiasm  at  times  and 
more  than  once  he  asked  himself  if  it  was  all  worth  while 
—  if  this  infinite  trouble  and  high  tension  were  expended 
to  the  wisest  purpose  on  these  ambitions.  He  had  heard 
things  from  politicians,  who  came  to  speak  for  him,  that 
discouraged  him.  He  had  found  that  single-mindedness 
was  not  the  dominant  quality  of  those  who  followed  poli- 
tics as  a  profession.  The  loaves  and  fishes  bulked  largely 
in  their  calculations,  and  he  heard  a  distinguished  man 
say  things  at  one  of  his  meetings  which  Raymond  knew 
that  it  was  impossible  he  could  believe.  For  example,  it 
was  clearly  a  popular  catchword  that  party  politics  had 


ATROPOS  467 

become  archaic,  and  that  a  time  was  near  when  party 
would  be  forgotten  in  a  larger  and  nobler  spirit.  Speak- 
ers openly  declared  that  great  changes  were  in  sight,  and 
the  constitution  must  be  modified;  but,  privately,  they 
professed  no  such  opinions.  All  looked  to  their  party 
and  their  party  alone  for  personal  advance.  It  seemed 
to  Ironsyde  that  their  spirits  were  mean  spirits ;  that  they 
concealed  behind  their  profession  a  practice  of  shrewd 
calculation  and  a  policy  of  cynical  self-advance.  The  talk 
behind  the  scenes  was  not  of  national  welfare,  but  indi- 
vidual success,  or  failure.  The  men  who  talked  the  loud- 
est on  the  platform  of  altruism  and  the  greatest  good  to 
the  greatest  number,  were  most  alive  in  private  conversa- 
tion to  the  wire-pulling  and  intrigue  which  proceeded  un- 
seen ;  and  it  was  in  the  machinery  they  found  their  prime 
interest  and  excitement,  rather  than  in  the  great  opera- 
tions the  machine  was  ostensibly  created  to  achieve.  The 
whole  business  on  their  lips  in  private  appeared  to  have  no 
more  real  significance  than  a  county  cricket  match,  or  any 
other  game. 

Thanks  largely  to  the  woman  he  was  to  wed,  Ironsyde 
took  now  a  statesman-like  rather  than  a  political  view  as 
far  as  his  inexperience  could  do  so.  He  had  no  axe  to 
grind,  and  from  the  standpoint  of  his  ignorance,  progress 
looked  easy  and  demanded  no  more  than  that  good  will 
of  which  Estelle  so  often  spoke.  But  in  practice  he  began 
to  perceive  the  gulf  between  ideal  legislation  and  practical 
politics  and,  in  moments  of  physical  depression,  as  the 
election  approached,  his  heart  failed  him.  He  grew  de- 
spondent at  night.  Then,  after  refreshing  sleep,  the  spirit 
of  hope  reawakened.  He  felt  very  certain  now  that  he 
was  going  to  get  in ;  and  still  with  morning  light  he  hailed 
the  victory;  while,  after  a  heavy  day,  he  doubted  of  its 
fruits  and  mistrusted  himself.  His  powers  seemed  puny 
contrasted  with  the  gigantic  difficulties  that  the  machine 
set  up  between  a  private  member  and  any  effective  or  in- 
dependent activity  in  the  House, 


468  THE  SPINNERS 

He  was  cast  down  as  he  rode  home  after  his  last  meeting 
but  one,  and  his  reflections  were  again  most  deeply  tinged 
with  doubt  as  to  the  value  of  these  heroic  exertions. 
Looked  at  here,  in  winter  moonlight  under  a  sky  of  stars, 
this  fevered  strife  seemed  vain,  and  the  particular  ambi- 
tion to  which  he  had  devoted  such  tremendous  application 
appeared  thin  and  doubtful  —  almost  unworthy.  He 
traversed  the  enterprise,  dwelt  on  outstanding  features  of 
it  and  comforted  himself,  as  often  he  had  done  of  late,  by 
reflecting  that  Estelle  would  be  at  his  right  hand.  If, 
after  practical  experience  and  fair  trial,  he  found  himself 
powerless  to  serve  their  common  interests,  or  advance  their 
ideals,  then  he  could  leave  the  field  of  Parliament  and  seek 
elsewhere  for  a  hearing.  His  ingenuous  hope  was  to  in- 
terest his  leaders ;  for  he  believed  that  many  who  possessed 
power,  thought  and  felt  as  he  did. 

He  had  grown  placid  by  the  time  he  left  South  Street 
and  turned  into  the  road  for  home.  The  night  was  keen 
and  frosty.  It  braced  him  and  he  began  to  feel  cheerful 
and  hungry  for  the  supper  that  waited  him  at  North  Hill. 

Then,  where  the  road  forked  from  Bridetown  and  an 
arm  left  it  for  West  Haven,  at  a  point  two  hundred  yards 
from  outlying  farm-houses,  a  young,  slight  figure  leapt 
from  the  hedge,  stood  firmly  in  the  road  and  stopped  Ray- 
mond's horse.  The  moonlight  was  clear  and  showed  Iron- 
syde  his  son.  Abel  leapt  at  the  bridle  rein,  and  when  the 
rider  bade  him  loose  it,  he  lifted  a  revolver  and  fired  twice 
pointblank. 

Ten  minutes  later,  on  their  way  back  from  the  meeting 
and  full  of  politics,  there  drove  that  way  John  Best,  Nicho- 
las Roberts  and  a  Bridetown  farmer.  They  found  a  man 
on  his  back  in  the  middle  of  the  road  and  a  horse  standing 
quietly  beside  him.  None  doubted  but  that  Raymond 
Ironsyde  was  dead,  yet  it  was  not  possible  for  them  to  be 
sure.  They  lifted  him  into  the  farmer's  cart  therefore, 
and  while  Best  and  Roberts  returned  with  him  to  Bridport 
Hospital,  the  farmer  mounted  Ironsyde's  horse  and  gal- 


ATROPOS  469 

loped  to  North  Hill  with  his  news.  Arthur  Waldron  was 
from  home,  but  Estelle  left  the  house  as  quickly  as  a  motor 
car  could  be  made  ready,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
stood  at  Raymond's  side. 

He  was  dead  and  had,  indeed,  died  instantly  when  fired 
upon.  He  had  been  shot  through  the  lung  and  heart,  and 
must  have  perished  before  he  fell  from  his  horse  to  the 
ground. 

They  knew  Estelle  at  the  hospital  and  left  her  with 
Raymond  for  a  little  while.  He  looked  ten  years  younger 
than  when  she  had  seen  him  last.  All  care  was  gone  and 
an  expression  of  content  rested  upon  his  beautiful  face. 

The  doctor  feared  to  leave  her,  judging  of  the  shock; 
but  when  he  returned  she  was  calm  and  controlled.  She 
sat  by  the  dead  man  and  held  his  hand. 

"  A  little  longer,"  she  said,  and  he  went  out  again. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    HIDING-PLACE 

No  doubt  existed  as  to*  the  murderer  of  Raymond  Iron- 
syde,  for  on  the  night  of  his  death,  Abel  Dinnett  did  not 
return  home.  He  had  left  work  at  the  usual  time,  but  had 
not  taken  his  bicycle;  and  from  that  day  he  was  seen  no 
more. 

It  appeared  impossible  that  he  could  evade  the  hue  and 
cry,  but  twenty-four  hours  passed  and  there  came  no  re- 
port of  his  capture.  Little  mystery  marked  the  matter, 
save  that  of  Abel's  disappearance.  His  animosity  towards* 
his  father  was  known  and  it  had  culminated  thus.  None 
imagined  that  capture  would  be  long  delayed;  but  forty- 
eight  hours  passed  and  still  there  came  no  news  of  him. 

Estelle  Waldron  fled  from  all  thought  of  him  at  first; 
then  she  reflected  upon  him  —  driven  to  do  so  by  a  con- 
viction concerning  him  that  commanded  action  from  her. 

On  the  day  after  the  coroner's  inquest,  for  the  first  time 
she  sought  Sabina.  The  meeting  was  of  an  affecting 
character,  for  each  very  fully  realised  the  situation  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  other.  Sabina  was  the  more  dis- 
tressed, yet  she  entertained  definite  convictions  and  de- 
clared herself  positive  concerning  certain  facts.  Estelle 
questioned  her  conclusions  and,  indeed,  refused  to  believe 
them. 

"  I  hope  you'll  understand  my  coming,  Sabina,"  she 
said. 

She  was  clad,  as  usual,  in  a  grey  Harris  tweed,  and  the 
elder  wondered  why  she  did  not  wear  black.  Estelle's  face 
was  haggard  and  worn  with  much  suffering.  But  it 

seemed  that  the  last  dregs  of  her  own  cup  were  not  yet 

470 


THE  HIDING-PLACE  471 

drunk,  for  an  excruciating  problem  faced  her.  There  was 
none  to  help  her  solve  it,  yet  she  took  it  to  Sabina. 

"  I  thought  you'd  come,  sooner  or  later.  This  is  a 
thing  beyond  any  human  power  to  make  better.  God 
knows  I  mourn  for  you  far  more  than  I  mourn  for  myself. 
I  don't  mourn  for  myself.  Long  ago  I  saw  that  the  liv- 
ing can't  be  happy,  though  the  dead  may  be.  The  dead 
may  be  —  we'll  hope  it  for  them." 

"  It's  death  to  me  as  well  as  to  him,"  said  Estelle  sim- 
ply. "  As  far  as  I'm  concerned,  I  feel  that  I'm  dead  from 
now  and  shall  live  on  as  somebody  different  —  somebody 
I  don't  know  yet.  All  that  we  were  and  had  and  hoped  — 
everything  is  gone  with  him.  The  future  was  to  be  spent 
in  trying  to  do  good  things.  We  shared  the  same  ideas 
about  it.  But  that's  all  over.  I'm  left  —  single-handed, 
Sabina." 

"  Yes,  I  know  how  you  feel." 

"  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it  yet.  I  didn't  come  to  talk 
about  him,  or  myself.  I  came  to  talk  about  Abel." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  anything  about  him." 

"  I  know  you  know  nothing.  I  think  I  know  more  than 
you  do." 

"  Know  more  of  him  than  I  do  ?  "  asked  the  mother. 
There  was  almost  a  flash  of  jealousy  in  her  voice.  But 
it  faded  and  she  sighed. 

"  No,  no.  You  needn't  fret  for  him.  They  may  find 
him,  or  they  may  not ;  but  they'll  not  find  him  alive." 

Estelle  started.  She  believed  most  steadfastly  that 
Abel  was  alive,  and  felt  very  certain  that  she  knew  his 
hiding-place. 

"Why  do  you  think  that?"  she  asked.  "You  might 
hope  it;  but  why  do  you  think  it?  Have  you  any  good 
reason  for  thinking  it  ?  " 

"  There  are  some  things  you  know,"  answered  the 
mother.  "  You  know  them  without  being  told  and  with- 
out any  reason.  You  neither  hope  nor  fear  —  you  know. 
I  might  ask  you  how  you  know  where  he  is.  But  I  don't 


472  THE  SPINNERS 

want  to  ask  you.  I've  taken  my  good-bye  of  him,  poor, 
wasted  life.  How  had  God  got  the  heart  to  let  him  live 
for  this?  People  will  say  it  was  fitting,  and  happened  by 
the  plan  of  his  Maker.  No  man's  child  —  not  even  God's. 
It's  all  hidden,  all  dark  to  me.  It's  worked  itself  out  to 
the  bitter  end.  Men  would  have  been  too  kind  to  work  it 
out  like  this.  Only  God  could.  I  can't  say  much  to  you. 
I'm  very  sorry  for  you.  You  were  caught  up  into  the 
thing  and  didn't  know,  or  guess,  what  you  were  thrusting 
yourself  into.  But  now  it's  your  turn,  and  you'll  have 
to  wait  long  years,  as  I  did,  before  you  can  look  at  life 
again  without  passion  or  sorrow." 

u  It  doesn't  matter  about  me.  But,  if  you  feel  Abel  is 
dead,  I  feel  just  as  strongly  that  he  is  alive,  and  that  this 
isn't  the  end  of  him." 

Sabina  considered. 

"  I  know  him  better  than  you,  and  I  know  Providence 
better  than  you  do,"  she  answered.  "  It's  like  the  wonder 
you  are  —  to  think  on  him  without  hate.  But  you're 
wasting  your  time  and  showing  pity  for  nothing.  He's 
beyond  pity.  Why,  I  don't  pity  him  —  his  mother." 

"  I'm  only  doing  what  Raymond  tried  to  do  so  often 
and  failed  —  what  he  would  have  me  do  now  if  he'd  lived. 
And  if  I  know  something  that  nobody  else  does,  I  must 
use  that  knowledge.  I'm  sorry  I  do  know,  Sabina,  but  I 
do." 

"  You  waste  your  time,  I  expect.  If  the  hunt  that's 
going  on  doesn't  find  him,  how  shall  you  do  it?  He's  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  I  hope." 

They  parted  and  the  same  night  Estelle  set  out  to  sat- 
isfy her  will.  She  told  nobody  of  her  purpose,  for  she 
knew  that  her  father  would  not  have  allowed  her  to  pursue 
it.  Waldron  was  utterly  crushed  by  the  death  of  his 
friend  and  could  not  as  yet  realise  the  loss. 

Nor  did  Estelle  realise  it,  save  in  fitful  and  fleeting 
agonies.  As  yet  the  full  significance  of  the  event  was  by 
no  means  weighed  by  her.  It  meant  far  more  than  she 


THE  HIDING-PLACE  473 

could  measure  and  receive  and  accept  in  so  brief  a  space 
of  time.  Seen  from  the  standpoint  of  this  death,  every 
plan  of  her  life,  every  undertaking  for  the  future,  was 
dislocated.  She  left  that  complete  ruin  for  the  present. 
There  was  no  hurry  to  restore,  or  set  about  rebuilding  the 
fabric  of  her  future.  She  would  have  all  her  life  to  do  it 
in. 

The  thought  of  Abel  came  as  a  demand  to  her  justice. 
Her  knowledge,  amounting  to  a  conviction,  required  ac- 
tion. The  nature  of  the  action  she  did  not  know,  but 
something  urged  her  to  reach  him  if  she  could.  For  she 
believed  him  mad.  Great  torture  of  spirit  had  overtaken 
her  under  her  loss ;  but  upon  this  extreme  grief,  ugly  and 
incessant,  obtruded  the  thought  of  Abel,  the  secret  of  his 
present  refuge  and  the  impulse  to  approach  him.  Her 
personal  suffering  established  rather  than  shook  her  own 
high  standards.  She  had  promised  the  boy  never  to  tell 
anybody  of  the  haunt  he  had  shown  her  under  the  roof  in 
the  old  store  at  West  Haven ;  and  if  most  women  might 
now  have  forgotten  such  a  promise,  Estelle  did  not.  But 
she  very  strenuously  argued  against  the  spiritual  impulse 
to  seek  him,  for  every  physical  instinct  rose  against  doing 
so.  To  do  this  was  surely  not  required  of  her,  for  where- 
unto  would  it  lead?  What  must  be  the  result  of  any  such 
meeting?  It  might  be  dreadful;  it  could  not  fail  to  be 
futile.  Yet  all  mental  effort  to  escape  the  task  proved 
vain.  Her  very  grief  edged  her  old,  austere,  chivalrous 
acceptance  of  duty.  She  felt  that  justice  called  her  to 
this  ordeal,  and  she  went  —  with  no  fixed  purpose  save  to 
see  him  and  urge  him  to  surrender  himself  for  his  own 
peace  if  he  could  understand.  No  personal  fear  touched 
her  reflections.  She  might  have  welcomed  fear  in  these 
unspeakable  moments  of  her  life,  for  she  was  little  enam- 
oured of  living  after  Raymond  Ironsyde  died.  The 
thought  of  death  for  herself  had  not  been  distasteful  at 
that  time. 

She  went  fearlessly,  when  all  slept  and  her  going  and 


474  THE  SPINNERS 

coming  would  not  be  observed.  She  left  her  home  at  a 
moonless  midnight,  took  candle  and  matches,  dressed  in 
her  stoutest  clothes  and  walked  over  North  Hill  towards 
Bridport.  But  at  the  eastern  shoulder  of  the  downs  she 
descended  through  a  field  and  struck  the  road  again  just 
at  the  fork  where  Raymond  had  perished. 

Then  she  struck  into  the  West  Haven  way  and  soon 
slipped  under  the  black  mass  of  the  old  store.  The  night 
was  cloudy  and  still.  No  wind  blew  and  the  sigh  of  the 
sea  beneath  the  shelving  beaches  close  at  hand,  had  sunk 
to  a  murmur.  West  Haven  lay  lost  in  darkness.  The 
old  store  had  been  searched,  as  many  other  empty  build- 
ings, for  the  fugitive;  but  he  was  not  specially  associated 
with  this  place,  save  in  the  mind  of  Estelle.  The  police 
had  hunted  it  carefully,  no  more,  and  she  guessed  that  his 
eerie  under  the  roof,  only  reached  by  a  somewhat  perilous 
climb  through  a  broken  window,  would  not  be  discovered. 

She  remembered  also  that  there  were  some  students  of 
Raymond's  murder  who  did  not  associate  Abel  with  it. 
Such  held  that  only  accident  and  coincidence  had  made  him 
run  away  on  the  night  of  Ironsyde's  end.  They  argued 
that  in  these  cases  the  obvious  always  proved  erroneous, 
and  the  theory  most  transparently  rational  seldom  led  the 
way  to  the  truth. 

But  she  had  never  doubted  about  that.  It  seemed  al- 
ready a  commonplace  of  knowledge,  a  lifetime  old,  that 
Abel  had  destroyed  his  father,  and  that  he  must  be  insane 
to  have  ruined  his  own  life  in  this  manner. 

She  ascended  cautiously  through  the  darkness,  reached 
a  gap  —  once  a  window  —  from  which  her  ascent  must  be 
made,  and  listened  for  a  few  moments  to  hear  if  anything 
stirred  above  her. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  old  store  was  full  of  noises,  for 
the  fingers  of  decay  never  cease  from  picking  and,  in  the 
silence  of  night,  one  can  best  hear  their  stealthy  activities. 
Little  falls  of  fragments  sounded  loudly,  even  echoed,  in 


THE  HIDING-PLACE  475 

this  great  silence.  There  was  almost  a  perpetual  rustle 
and  whisper ;  and  once  a  thud  and  skurry,  when  a  rat  dis- 
placed a  piece  of  mortar  which  fell  from  the  rotting  plas- 
ter. Dark  though  the  heaven  was  and  black  the  outer 
night,  it  had  the  quality  that  air  never  loses  and  she  saw 
the  sky  as  possessed  of  illumination  in  contrast  with  its 
setting  of  the  broken  window.  Within  all  was  blankly 
black ;  from  above  there  came  no  sound. 

She  climbed  to  the  window  ledge,  felt  for  the  nails  that 
Abel  had  hammered  in  to  hold  his  feet  and  soon  ascended 
through  a  large  gap  under  the  eaves  of  the  store.  Some 
shock  had  thrown  out  a  piece  of  brickwork  here.  Seen 
from  the  ground  the  aperture  looked  trifling  and  had  in- 
deed challenged  no  attention;  but  it  was  large  enough  to 
admit  a  man. 

For  a  moment  Estelle  stood  in  this  aperture  before  en- 
tering the  den  within.  She  raised  her  voice,  which  flut- 
tered after  her  climb,  and  called  to  him. 

"Abel!     Abel!     It's  Estelle." 

There  came  the  thought,  even  as  she  spoke,  that  he 
might  answer  with  a  bullet ;  but  he  answered  not  at  all. 
She  felt  thankful  for  the  silence  and  hoped  that  he  might 
have  deserted  his  retreat.  Perhaps,  indeed,  he  had  never 
come  to  it;  and  yet  it  seemed  impossible  that  he  had  for 
two  days  escaped  capture  unless  here  concealed.  It  oc- 
curred to  her  that  he  might  wander  out  by  night  and 
return  before  day.  He  might  even  now  be  behind  her,  to 
intercept  her  return.  Still  no  shadow  of  fear  shook  her 
mind  or  body.  She  felt  not  a  tremor.  All  that  concerned 
her  conscience  was  now  completed  and  she  hoped  that  it 
would  be  possible  to  dismiss  from  her  thoughts  the  fellow 
creature  who  had  destroyed  her  joy  of  life  and  worked 
evil  so  far  reaching.  She  could  leave  him  now  to  his 
destiny  and  feel  under  no  compulsion  to  relate  the  inci- 
dents of  her  nocturnal  search.  Had  he  been  there,  she 
would  have  risked  the  meeting,  urged  him  to  surrender 


476  THE  SPINNERS 

and  then  left  him  if  he  allowed  her  to  do  so.  She  would 
never  have  given  him  up,  or  broken  her  promise  to  keep 
his  secret. 

But  the  chamber  under  the  roof  was  large  and  she  did 
not  leave  it  without  making  sure  that  he  was  neither  hid- 
ing nor  sleeping  within  it.  She  entered,  lighted  her  can- 
dle and  examined  a  triangular  recess  formed  by  the  con- 
verging beams  of  the  roof  above  her  and  the  joists  under 
her  feet. 

The  boy  had  been  busy  here.  There  were  evidences  of 
him  —  evidences  of  a  child  rather  than  a  man.  Boyish 
forethought  stared  her  in  the  face  and  staggered  her  by 
its  ghastly  incongruities  with  the  things  this  premeditating 
youth  had  done.  Here  were  provisions,  not  such  as  a 
man  would  have  selected  to  stand  a  siege,  but  the  taste  of 
a  schoolboy.  She  looked  at  the  supplies  spread  here  — 
tins  of  preserved  food,  packets  of  chocolate,  bottles  of 
ginger  beer,  bananas,  biscuits.  But  it  seemed  that  the 
hoard  had  not  been  touched.  One  tin  of  potted  salmon 
had  been  opened,  but  no  part  of  the  contents  was  con- 
sumed. Either  accident  had  changed  his  purpose  and 
frightened  him  elsewhere  at  the  last  moment,  or  the  ener- 
gies and  activities  that  had  gone  to  pile  this  accumulation 
were  all  spent  in  the  process  and  now  he  did  not  need  them. 

Then  she  looked  further,  to  the  extremity  of  the  den  he 
had  made,  and  there,  lying  comfortably  on  a  pile  of  shav- 
ings, Estelle  found  him. 

She  guessed  that  the  storm  and  stress  of  his  crime  had 
exhausted  him  and  thrown  him  into  heaviest  possible  phys- 
ical slumber  after  great  mental  tribulation.  She  shud- 
dered as  she  looked  down  on  him  and  a  revulsion,  a  loath- 
ing tempted  her  to  creep  away  again  before  he  awakened. 
She  did  not  think  of  him  as  a  patricide,  nor  did  her  own 
loss  entirely  inspire  the  emotion ;  she  never  associated  him 
with  that,  but  kept  him  outside  it,  as  she  would  have  kept 
some  insensible  or  inanimate  object  had  such  been  re- 
sponsible for  Ironsyde's  end.  It  was  the  sudden  thought 


THE  HIDING-PLACE  477 

of  all  Raymond's  death  might  mean  —  not  to  her  but  the 
world  —  that  turned  her  heart  to  stone  for  a  fearful 
second  as  she  looked  down  upon  the  unconscious  figure. 
Her  own  sorrow  was  sealed  at  its  fountains  for  the  time. 
But  her  sorrow  for  the  world  could  not  be  sealed.  And 
then  came  the  thought  that  the  insensible  boy  at  her  feet, 
escaping  for  a  little  while  through  sleep's  primeval  sanc- 
tity, was  part  of  the  robbed  world  also.  Who  had  lost 
more  than  he  by  his  unreason?  If  her  heart  did  not  melt 
then,  it  grew  softer. 

But  there  was  more  to  learn  before  she  left  him  and  the 
truth  can  be  recorded. 

Abel  had  killed  his  father  and  hastened  to  his  lair  ex- 
ultant. He  had  provided  for  what  should  follow  and 
vaguely  hoped  that  presently,  before  his  stores  were  spent, 
the  way  would  be  clearer  for  escape.  He  assured  himself 
safe  from  discovery  and  guessed  that  when  a  fortnight 
was  passed,  he  might  safely  creep  out,  reach  a  port,  find 
work  in  a  ship  and  turn  his  back  upon  England  for  ever. 

That  was  his  general  plan  before  the  deed.  Afterwards 
all  changed  for  him.  He  then  found  himself  a  being 
racked  and  over-mastered  by  new  sensations.  The  desir- 
able thing  that  he  had  done  changed  its  features,  even  as 
death  changes  the  features  of  life ;  the  ideal,  so  noble  and 
seemly  before,  when  attained  assumed  such  a  shape  as,  in 
one  of  Abel's  heredity,  it  was  bound  to  assume.  Not  at ' 
once  did  the  change  appear,  but  as  a  cloud  no  bigger  than 
a  man's  hand  in  the  clear,  triumphant  sky  of  his  achieve- 
ment. Even  so  an  apple,  that  once  he  had  stolen  and 
hidden,  was  bruised  unknown  to  him  and  thus  contained 
the  seed  of  death,  that  made  it  rot  before  it  was  ripe. 
The  decay  spread  and  the  fruit  turned  to  filth  before  he 
could  win  any  enjoyment  from  it. 

He  shook  off  the  beginnings  of  doubt  impatiently.  He 
retraced  his  grievances  and  dwelt  on  the  glory  of  his 
revenge  as  he  reached  his  secret  place  after  the  crime. 
But  the  stain  darkened  in  the  heart  of  his  mind ;  and  before 


478  THE  SPINNERS 

dawn  crept  through  cracks  in  the  roof  above  his  lair,  dis- 
solution had  begun. 

Through  the  hours  of  that  first  day  he  lay  there  with 
his  thoughts  for  company  and  a  process,  deepening,  as 
dusk  deepened,  into  remorse  began  to  horrify  him.  He 
fought  with  all  his  might  against  it.  He  resented  it  with 
indignation.  His  gorge  rose  against  it;  he  would  have 
strangled  it,  had  it  been  a  ponderable  thing  within  his 
power  to  destroy ;  but  as  time  passed  he  began  to  know 
it  was  stronger  than  he.  It  gripped  his  spirit  with  un- 
conquerable fingers  and  slowly  stifled  him.  Time  crept 
on  interminable.  When  the  second  night  came,  he  was 
faint  and  turned  to  his  food.  He  struggled  with  himself 
and  opened  a  tin  of  salmon.  But  he  could  not  eat.  He 
believed  that  he  would  never  eat  again.  He  slept  for  an 
hour,  then  woke  from  terrifying  dreams.  His  mind  wan- 
dered and  he  longed  to  be  gone  and  tear  off  his  clothes 
and  dip  into  the  sea. 

At  dawn  of  the  second  day  men  were  hunting  the  old 
stores,  from  its  cellars  to  the  attics  below  him.  He  heard 
them  speaking  under  his  feet  and  listened  to  two  men  who 
cursed  him.  They  speculated  whether  he  was  too  young 
to  hang  and  hoped  he  might  not  be.  Yet  he  could  take 
pride  in  their  failure  to  find  him.  There  was,  as  he  re- 
membered, only  one  person  in  the  world  who  knew  of  his 
eerie ;  but  terror  did  not  accompany  this  recollection. 
His  exultation  at  the  defeat  of  the  searchers  soon  van- 
ished, and  he  found  himself  indifferent  to  the  thought  that 
Estelle  might  remember. 

He  knew  that  his  plans  could  not  be  fulfilled  now :  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  live  a  fortnight  here.  And  then  he 
began  stealthily,  fearfully,  to  doubt  of  life  itself.  It  had 
changed  in  its  aspect  and  invitation.  Its  promises  were 
dead.  It  could  hold  nothing  for  him  as  he  had  been  told 
by  Levi  Baggs.  The  emotions  now  threatening  his  mind 
were  such  that  he  believed  no  length  of  days  would  ever 
dim  them ;  from  what  he  suffered  now,  it  seemed  that  time's 


THE  HIDING-PLACE  479 

self  could  promise  no  escape.  Life  would  be  hell  and  not 
worth  living.  At  this  point  in  his  struggles  his  mind 
failed  him  and  became  disordered.  It  worked  fitfully,  and 
its  processes  were  broken  with  blanks  and  breaks.  Chaos 
marked  his  mental  steps  from  this  point;  his  feet  were 
caught  and  he  fell  down  and  down,  yet  tried  hard  for  a 
while  to  stay  his  fall.  His  consciousness  began  to  decide, 
while  his  natural  instincts  struggled  against  the  decision. 
Not  one,  but  rival  spirits  tore  him.  Reason  formed  no 
part  in  the  encounter;  no  arbiter  arose  between  the  con- 
flicting forces,  between  a  gathering  will  to  die  and  escape 
further  torment,  and  the  brute  will  to  live,  that  must  be- 
long to  every  young  creature,  happy  or  wretched. 

The  trial  was  long  drawn  out;  but  it  had  ended  some 
hours  before  Estelle  stood  beside  him. 

She  considered  whether  she  should  waken  Abel  and  de- 
termined that  she  must  do  so,  since  to  speak  with  him,  if 
possible,  she  held  her  duty  now.  He  was  safe  if  he  wished 
to  be,  for  she  would  never  tell  his  secret.  So  she  bent  down 
with  her  light  —  to  find  him  dead.  He  had  shot  him- 
self through  the  right  temple  after  sunset  time  of  the  sec- 
ond day. 

Estelle  stood  and  looked  at  him  for  a  little  while,  then 
climbed  back  to  earth  and  went  away  through  the  darkness 
to  tell  his  mother  that  she  was  right. 


THE    END 


'"THE  following  pages  contain  advertisements  of  a  few  of  the 
Macmillan  novels. 


The  Human  Boy  and  the  War 

BY  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

Cloth,  isrno, 

In  this  book  of  stories  Mr.  Phillpotts  uses  his  genial  gift 
of  characterization  to  picture  the  effect  of  the  European  War 
on  the  impressionable  minds  of  boys  —  English  school-boys 
far  away  from  anything  but  the  mysterious  echo  of  the  strange 
terrors  and  blood-stirring  heroisms  of  battle,  who  live  close 
only  to  the  martial  invitation  of  a  recruiting  station.  There 
are  stories  of  a  boy  who  runs  away  to  go  to  the  front,  teachers 
who  go  —  perhaps  without  running;  the  school's  contest  for  a 
prize  poem  about  the  war,  and  snow  battles,  fiercely  belligerent, 
mimicking  the  strategies  of  Flanders  and  the  Champagne. 
They  are  deeply  moving  sketches  revealing  the  heart  and 
mind  of  English  youth  in  war-time. 

"The  book  is  extraordinary  in  the  skill  with  which  it  gets 
into  that  world  of  the  boy  so  shut  away  from  the  adult  world. 
It  is  entirely  unlike  anything  else  by  Phillpotts,  equal  as  it  is 
to  his  other  volumes  in  charm,  character  study,  humor  and  in- 
terest. It  is  one  of  those  books  that  every  reader  will  want  to 
recommend  to  his  friends,  and  which  he  will  only  lend  with 
the  express  proviso  that  it  must  be  returned."—  New  York 
Times. 

"In  this  book  Mr.  Phillpotts  pictures  a  boy,  a  real  human 
boy.  The  boy's  way  of  thinking,  his  outlook  upon  life,  his 
ambitions,  his  ideals,  his  moods,  his  peculiarities,  these  are 
all  here  touched  with  a  kindly  sympathy  and  humor." — New 
York  Sun. 

"  Mr.  Phillpotts  writes  from  a  real  knowledge  of  the  school- 
boy's habit  of  thought.  He  writes  with  much  humor  and  the 
result  is  as  delightful  and  entertaining  a  volume  as  has  come 
from  his  pen  for  some  time." — Buffalo  Evening  News. 


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BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

CHRONICLES  OF  ST.  TID 

BY  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 


"The  gifts  of  the  short-story  writer  are  wholly  Mr.  Phill- 
potts'.  Here,  as  elsewhere  in  his  works,  we  have  the  place 
painted  with  the  pen  of  an  artist,  and  the  person  depicted  with 
the  skill  of  the  writer  who  is  inspired  by  all  types  of  humanity." 
—  Boston  Evening  Transcript. 

"  No  one  rivals  Phillpotts  in  this  peculiar  domain  of  present- 
ing an  ancient  landscape,  with  its  homes  and  their  inmates  as 
survivals  of  a  past  century.  There  is  nothing  vague  about  his 
characters.  They  are  undeniable  personalities,  and  are  pos- 
sessed of  a  psychology  all  their  own."  —  The  Chicago  Tribune. 

THE  BANKS  OF  COLNE 

BY  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 


"Absorbing,  written  with  sure  power  and  a  constant  flow  of 
humor.  .  .  .  Has  the  warm  human  glow  of  sympathy  and  un- 
derstanding, and  it  is  written  with  real  mastery."  —  New  York 
Times. 

"  A  tale  of  absorbing  interest  from  its  start  to  the  altogether 
unusual  and  dramatic  climax  with  which  it  closes."  —  Philadel- 
phia Public  Ledger. 

"  Stands  in  the  foremost  rank  of  current  fiction."  —  New  York 
Tribune.  I 

"  His  acute  faculties  of  sympathetic  observation,  his  felicitous 
skill  in  characterization,  and  his  power  to  present  the  life  of  a 
community  in  all  its  multiple  aspects  are  here  combined  in  the 
most  mature  and  absorbing  novel  of  his  entire  career."  —  Phila- 
delphia Press. 

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BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

THE  GREEN  ALLEYS 

BY  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

$1.50 

"As  long  as  we  have  such  novels  as  The  Green  Alleys  and 
such  novelists  as  Mr.  Phillpotts,  we  need  have  no  fears  for  the 
future  of  English  fiction.  Mr.  Phillpotts'  latest  novel  is  a  repre- 
sentative example  of  him  at  his  best,  of  his  skill  as  a  literary 
creator  and  of  his  ability  as  an  interpreter  of  life."  —  Boston 
Transcript. 

*"A  drama  of  fascinating  interest,  lightened  by  touches  of 
delicious  comedy  .  .  .  one  of  the  best  of  the  many  remarkable 
books  from  the  pen  of  this  clever  author.  —  Boston  Globe. 

BRUNEL'S  TOWER 

BY  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 


The  regeneration  of  a  faulty  character  through  association 
with  dignified  honest  work  and  simple,  sincere  people  is  the 
theme  which  Mr.  Phillpotts  has  chosen  for  this  novel.  The 
scene  is  largely  laid  in  a  pottery,  where  a  lad,  having  escaped 
from  a  reform  school,  has  sought  shelter  and  work.  Under  the 
influence  of  the  gentle,  kindly  folk  of  the  community  he  comes 
in  a  measure  to  realize  himself. 

OLD  DELABOLE 

BY  EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

$1.50 

"  Besides  being  a  good  story,  richly  peopled,  and  brimful  of 
human  nature  in  its  finer  aspects,  the  book  is  seasoned  with 
quiet  humor  and  a  deal  of  mellow  wisdom."  —  New  York  Times. 


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